


More Fairy Tales in Deep Space

by butterflyslinky



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-10-29 23:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10864362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: Julian Bashir continues his anthropological research into Cardassian values.





	1. Beauty and the Beast

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fairy Tales in Deep Space](https://archiveofourown.org/works/217092) by [airandangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/airandangels/pseuds/airandangels). 



> This is continued from a story I found deep in the archive and loved quite a lot, where Julian tells Garak fairy tales and records his interpretations. It's hilarious and you should probably read it first. I loved the idea and wanted more, so more there is. The fairy tales are told from my recollections as drawn from various sources.

**Julian Bashir's quarters, Deep Space 9**

**JB:** I do apologize for the long delay, Garak. You know how it’s been.

 **EG:** With the war and everything, we’ve both been very busy. But I am eager to have a distraction. What tales of horror and idiocy do you have for me today?

 **JB:** Not so much horror…tea?

 **EG:** Thank you.

 **JB:** This one is called Beauty and the Beast.

 **EG:** And am I suppose it is a coincidence you chose this one now?

 **JB:** I have no idea what you’re talking about.

 **EG:** Well, with Commander Dax’s wedding…

 **JB:** SO! Once upon a time, there was a merchant who had three daughters. Two of them were vain and selfish and shallow, but the youngest daughter was as good and kind as she was beautiful. Because of this, her father called her Beauty, or Belle in some versions.

 **EG:** I’ve heard this before, haven’t I?

 **JB:** It’s by the same author as Cinderella, yes. Selfish sisters are a common motif in fairy tales, actually. Anyway, the merchant was quite well-off until one day, a terrible storm destroyed all of his ships and all the goods on them. The merchant found himself having to repay all the people who had ordered goods, and soon fell into debt. He and his daughters were forced to sell everything they had and move to a small cottage in the country.

Once there, the two older sisters did nothing but lie about in bed and complain all day, leaving Beauty to do all the work around the cottage.

 **EG:** If this is another “work hard and you’ll be rewarded” story, I will leave.

 **JB:** No, it’s not…well, not entirely.

 **EG:** Good. It seems to me that you don’t need three different stories to make that point; I would think children would understand that the first time.

 **JB:** You’d be surprised. Anyway, a month or so after they arrived, the merchant received word that one of his ships had survived the storm after all and the cargo might be worthwhile. His two elder daughters were ecstatic at the news. “Soon we will be rich again!” they cried, and asked their father to bring back all manner of things, new dresses and jewels. Their father agreed, and then he asked Beauty what she wanted.

“All I want is a red rose, to remind me of happier times,” she said.

 **EG:** Well, that’s rather silly. Could she not grow roses in her garden? They’re not terribly difficult to cultivate.

 **JB:** Wrong climate, I suppose.

 **EG:** Then how did she expect her father to buy her one in the market?

 **JB:** The port was quite a ways away, at least a few days riding.

 **EG:** In which case, the rose wouldn’t survive the journey back anyway. I can see Beauty’s renown does not extend to her common sense.

 **JB:** ANYWAY, the merchant rode to the port, where he found that the ship’s crew had made off with the cargo, sold it and kept the money for themselves, leaving nothing for the merchant.

 **EG:** Did he go to law enforcement to have the crew arrested?

 **JB:** They’d all sailed off again by the time he got there.

 **EG:** He should have vetted them more carefully. Or better yet, sailed with them himself to make sure they wouldn’t cheat him. I see where Beauty got her brains.

 **JB:** Yes, well…anyway, the merchant, dejected, turned back home, feeling despair at his misfortune and guilt that he wasn’t able to give his daughters anything they’d asked for. As he rode, it began to snow. The merchant soon became disoriented in the storm and lost his way.

 **EG:** Am I to assume this takes place before your world had developed mapping technology?

 **JB:** Yes…he was on a horse. So the merchant rode through the storm until he came to a castle gate. Inside the gate it was springtime, with flowers and trees growing green. As the merchant rode up, the gate opened of its own accord. He rode inside and found a stable for his horse, with plenty of good clean hay. He left the horse there and went to the door of the castle. When he knocked, the door opened, though he saw no servant to open it.

 **EG:** Sounds like a trap. He should leave at once.

 **JB:** He was tired and cold, so he went in. The castle was finely decorated, full of fine furniture and tapestries and paintings, but it was deserted. He wandered for a little while before he found a dining room. A hot meal was laid out, with a single place setting. The merchant waited for a while for the owner of the castle to appear, but soon he became too tempted by the food, so he sat down and ate.

 **EG:** Without even checking to see if it was poisoned?

 **JB:** It wasn’t. The merchant concluded that the castle must belong to a good fairy who had invited him in and would care for him. After he’d eaten, he was warm and full and tired so he got up and wandered down the hall. Sure enough, he soon found a bedroom, with a fire in the hearth and a soft bed made up for him. The merchant thanked the fairy aloud and went to bed.

The next morning, when he awoke, he found a new suit of fine cloth laid out for him. The merchant muttered another prayer of thanks and dressed, finding the suit fit him perfectly.

 **EG:** I wonder how the good fairy got his measurements? It’s nearly impossible to take them when the client is lying down. And the fairy must be quite a good tailor to sew an entire custom-tailored suit in one night.

 **JB:** It’s magic. The merchant returned to the dining room, where he found breakfast waiting for him. He ate, and then called out, “Fairy, I thank you for your gifts and hospitality, but I now must return home to my daughters.” He left and went to the stable to fetch his horse. As he was leaving, though, he spotted a rosebush with an abundance of red roses. Remembering Beauty’s request, he reached out and cut one of the roses from the bush.

 **EG:** Again, I ask how he expects it to survive the journey home, especially since he’s lost and will have farther to travel.

 **JB:** Maybe he assumed it was magic and wouldn’t fade. At any rate, the moment he took the rose, he heard a loud roar and a gigantic beast leaped out of the shadows at him.

 **EG:** What sort of a beast?

 **JB:** That’s largely interpretive. The most popular image is that of a giant hairy buffalo-wolf-cat-thing with horns and claws and very sharp teeth, though other images have included a boar or a stag. Really, the only important thing is that the beast was humanoid, but monstrous in appearance.

 **EG:** Again, I must ask if your choice of story was inspired by Commander Dax’s wedding.

 **JB:** I have no idea what you’re talking about. The beast grabbed the merchant and growled at him, “Why do you steal my roses? I have provided for you, and this is the thanks you give me? By taking that is most precious to me?”

 **EG:** Of all the things in the castle the merchant could have taken, the beast is concerned about him stealing a flower? As I mentioned, roses aren’t terribly difficult to grow if you know what you’re doing. And why didn’t the merchant steal the furnishings or money or anything so he could buy his other daughters what they wanted?

 **JB:** He probably didn’t think anyone would miss a rose. Or maybe the merchant didn’t really care about his other daughters. Either way, the beast said that since the merchant had stolen from him, he would have to stay in the castle forever. The merchant wept and apologized, begging to be allowed to go home to his daughters to say goodbye.

 **EG:** And the beast immediately ate him up, teaching children not to steal flowers?

 **JB:** No. The beast took pity on the merchant, and said that if one of his daughters would willingly come to the castle and take her father’s place, the merchant could go home.

 **EG:** Ah, so we’re teaching children that if they steal the crime will follow their family forever!

 **JB:** Hush. The merchant took the rose and rode home sadly. The storm had dissipated, so he had no trouble finding his way. When he returned home, he told his daughters his sad story. The older daughters scolded Beauty for causing so much trouble by requesting something so stupid as a rose.

 **EG:** I must say, I don’t disagree with them.

 **JB:** Beauty wept from guilt and said she would go to the Beast’s castle, for she would rather die herself than cause her father’s death. The merchant begged Beauty to reconsider, but her mind was made up. So the next day, the merchant and Beauty left. They rode back to the castle and went inside. Her father took her to the dining room, where a meal was laid out for two. They sat and ate. As soon as they had finished, the Beast appeared.

 **EG:** Does the Beast have a name?

 **JB:** Most versions just call him “Beast,” though some authors have given him a name. It’s not important. The Beast looked at Beauty and was dazzled by her radiance. “Did you come of your own free will?” he asked.

 **EG:** I’d say that extorting her by threatening to imprison her father is hardly free will.

 **JB:** He really meant to ask if her father had forced her to go. Beauty said it was her choice to take her father’s place. “Then you will go to your rooms, and your father will leave in the morning.” They went to their rooms and slept, and the next morning, the merchant rode away, his heart heavy.

 **EG:** Well, it is a bit harsh for him to leave his daughter with a Beast that could eat her, but he did only steal the rose to please her…and her loyalty to her father is admirable. I’m sure her sacrifice will be worthwhile.

 **JB:** Anyway, Beauty wandered the castle for a while, looking at everything. When she returned to her room, she found a book and a mirror. Written in the book was a note, telling her not to fear and that all her needs would be met. She picked up the mirror and found that when she looked in it, she could see what was happening back at home. When she looked, she saw her sisters laughing at her misfortune.

 **EG:** Now, really! I find the wicked sisters in these stories almost comical in their wickedness!

 **JB:** It’s to draw a contrast with our heroine, I suppose. Beauty was saddened by her sisters’ cruelty, but she soon cheered up when she found a wide array of gowns and jewels in her room, each tailored to her and very finely crafted.

 **EG:** I thought wanting fine dresses and jewels was considered shallow. These stories are very inconsistent with their messages.

 **JB:** Wanting them when it would burden her father was wrong, but when they were offered by someone who could afford them, it was all right because it just showed the Beast wanted her to be happy.

 **EG:** He could have just handed her a spade and a garden plot and she’d be happy.

 **JB:** Probably. Beauty dressed and went to dinner. The table was only laid for one, so she sat down to eat. When she finished, the Beast appeared. “Beauty,” he asked. “Will you marry me?”

 **EG:** Well, that’s rather rushing things. She’s only known him for a day and all he’s done is lock her up in his castle!

 **JB:** She thought the same, and was repulsed by his appearance, so she said no. The Beast huffed in annoyance and stormed off. Beauty was frightened and returned to her room. That night, she dreamed that a handsome young man came to her and told her not to misjudge the Beast.

 **EG:** I’d find it rather hard to misjudge him at this point.

 **JB:** She woke up, feeling a bit better about her circumstances. The days passed. Beauty spent her time exploring the castle, walking in the garden, or reading in its vast library. Everything she wanted was provided for her, from the finest clothes to the best food. Every evening, the Beast came after dinner. They soon began to spend their evenings together, talking as friends. Beauty found that the Beast was truly a gentle soul, educated and not as fierce as he looked, and she soon began to like him. But at the end of every evening, the Beast asked Beauty to marry him, and Beauty’s answer never changed.

 **EG:** Well, at least she shows a bit of common sense not to marry the monster that imprisoned her.

 **JB:** Exactly. Well, time went on until one day, Beauty looked in her magic mirror and saw that her father was quite ill, possibly dying. She was very distressed, so that evening, when she and the Beast sat down to talk, she told him she would like to go home for a little while to care for her father. The Beast, touched by her loyalty and at this point very much in love, agreed, and gave her a ring that would transport her home. “When you wish to return,” he said. “Place the ring on your bedside table and you will be brought back. But do not stay way longer than a week, for if you do, I will surely die of a broken heart.”

 **EG:** Now, really! Bad enough he extorted the girl to live with him in the first place, but to manipulate her into leaving her family to come back is really quite too much! I hope Beauty stays home and lets him die!

 **JB:** Really, Garak, you should know better than that by now. So Beauty put the ring on, and soon found herself in her room back home. Furthermore, she found a trunk full of dresses and jewels from the Beast’s castle had come with her. She rushed downstairs, where her sisters were shocked to see her alive and well, and her father was so overjoyed he soon became well again.

 **EG:** Was her father dying of a broken heart as well?

 **JB:** I suppose the guilt over letting his daughter be imprisoned was eating at him, yes. Beauty’s sisters were agog to see her in such fine clothing, and were quite jealous of all the finery that had come with her. Beauty felt a bit guilty, even though her family’s fortunes had improved in the time she had been gone, so she went to her trunk, thinking she could give some of the jewels to her sisters. But when she tried to open it, it vanished. Beauty realized that the gifts inside were meant only for her, and spoke an apology to the empty air. The trunk reappeared. “You think only of me, Beast,” she said. “And why shouldn’t I marry you? Though I cannot love you the way you love me, you are my very dear friend, and I would like nothing more than to spend my life by your side.” She made up her mind that when she returned, she would accept his offer.

 **EG:** Because he gave her things she couldn’t share with her sisters? That’s a rather selfish viewpoint.

 **JB:** I suppose that she’d gotten tired of being selfless. Anyway, a week passed and Beauty announced her intention to return to the castle. Her sisters, ever more jealous of Beauty’s good fortune, begged her to stay, saying their father would surely grow ill again if she left, telling her how selfish it was to go back to the castle without them, saying the Beast would surely eat her up when she returned. Eventually, Beauty got so tired of their nagging, she agreed to stay another week.

 **EG:** Beauty really doesn’t have much will, does she, if she can be manipulated by whoever she’s with.

 **JB:** They were her sisters.

 **EG:** But the Beast did the same thing.

 **JB:** She was going to spend her life with the Beast. She probably didn’t think another week would make a difference. But when she went to bed that night, she had a dream, where she saw the Beast lying in his garden, still and surely dying. Beauty woke with a gasp and placed the Beast’s ring on her bedside table. Sure enough, when she woke again the next morning, she was back in the castle. She immediately ran out to the garden, where she found the Beast, lying on the ground just as he had in her dream.

 **EG:** So he really did die of a broken heart. I suppose that’s a lesson to children to keep their promises.

 **JB:** I’m not finished. Beauty went to the Beast, hoping she could revive him. His eyes opened for a bare moment. “You took too long,” he gasped. “I thought you’d never return.”

“But I did,” she said. “I love you. And I have decided to accept your offer of marriage.”

With that, a bright light flashed through the garden, blinding Beauty. When her vision cleared, she found her Beast had vanished and a handsome young man knelt before her.

 **EG:** Now really! Just because she agreed to marry him, he suddenly became a socially acceptable husband?

 **JB:** Just so. The young man explained that he was a prince who had been cursed by an evil fairy to appear in the form of a beast until a woman agreed to marry him as he was. All his servants had been cursed to be little more than wraiths, and the castle had been hidden and erased from living memory. But Beauty had broken the spell, so she and the prince got married and lived happily ever after.

 **EG:** And what about her family? Did her father get over the guilt of leaving her there?

 **JB:** Some versions don’t say what happened. Some say that her family came to the wedding, but when her wicked sisters passed through the gates, they were turned into stone statues to frighten away the birds.

 **EG:** Ah, of course they were.

 **JB:** So…your interpretation?

 **EG:** Let’s see…I suppose the lesson is that loyalty to your family is more important than personal happiness.

 **JB:** How did you reach that conclusion?

 **EG:** Everything that happened was because of the father’s desire to please the daughter who had been good and helped him, and because Beauty was willing to take responsibility for it and sacrifice herself to save her father. And in the end, she was rewarded with material wealth and a powerful husband, while her disloyal sisters were punished.

 **JB:** Well…I suppose you can look at it that way. The original moral was that you can’t just a person to be a monster by their appearance and that true beauty is found within.

 **EG:** I found very little about the beast to be beautiful, inside or out. He manipulated Beauty throughout the story with both extortion and bribery.

 **JB:** Well, the other common interpretation on Earth is that it’s a story romanticizing Stockholm Syndrome and abusive relationships, though I find that overly reductive.

 **EG:** So you’re saying that for once I managed to be less cynical than the people of Earth? I’m shocked.

 **JB:** As am I…same time next week?

 **EG:** I look forward to it.


	2. Hansel and Gretel

**Julian Bashir’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**JB:** All right, you comfy?

 **EG:** Yes, very…I see we have quite a few sweets today.

 **JB:** It’s thematic to the story. I’ve found one today that I don’t think even your particular brand of misanthropy can misinterpret.

 **EG:** I thought this was an experiment to see where our cultures differ, not an excuse for you to indulge my cynicism.

 **JB:** It’s the same thing. Also, we’re going to have quite a few of our recurring motifs in this one, so please try not to point them out.

 **EG:** I’ll do my best.

 **JB:** Excellent! Today’s story is called Hansel and Gretel. Once upon a time, a poor woodcutter lived in the woods with his wife and his children, Hansel and Gretel.

 **EG:** Hence the rather descriptive title.

 **JB:** Exactly. The woodcutter got by, but he was never well-off, and then one summer business was worse than usual. The woodcutter’s family was down to a single loaf of bread and would soon starve.

 **EG:** I notice that the characters in these stories tend to fall on hard times, financially. Or is that one of the recurring motifs I’m not supposed to point out?

 **JB:** Not one I was thinking of, but I suppose you’re right. You need good conflict in a story. So the woodcutter said to his wife, “Wife, we are out of food and money. Soon we will all starve.”

And his wife answered, “We should take the children out into the woods and leave them there. They’ll never find their way home, and that way there will be more food for you and me.”

 **EG:** Really? At least Little Red Riding Hood’s mother had good intentions when she sent her daughter off into the woods alone!

 **JB:** Some versions say that the woodcutter’s wife was the children’s stepmother who didn’t really like them.

 **EG:** Ah, the recurring motif of men marrying terrible women who hate their existing children. That explains it.

 **JB:** Really?

 **EG:** No, but please continue.

 **JB:** Well, the woodcutter argued with his wife, but she was a strong, domineering woman and eventually, the woodcutter agreed. But Hansel and Gretel, lying awake from hunger, overheard the plan. “Oh, brother, what shall we do?” Gretel asked.

“Leave it to me,” Hansel said. He waited until the woodcutter and his wife had gone to bed before Hansel slipped out of bed, snuck out the door, and gathered a bunch of white pebbles into his pocket.

 **EG:** Does he plan to use the rocks to bludgeon his wicked stepmother to death?

 **JB:** They weren’t nearly big enough. The next day, the woodcutter gave each of his children a small crust of bread and he and his wife led them out into the forest. Every few feet, Hansel would stop and turn around. “What are you looking at?” his stepmother asked.

“My little white cat on the roof,” Hansel said.

 **EG:** Wait a moment. This family is so poor they’re leading their children into the woods, but they can afford to keep a pet?

 **JB:** Cats were often kept to catch mice that would eat your food.

 **EG:** Still, you’d think that they’d eat the cat before abandoning their children.

 **JB:** Eating cats is generally not considered a good practice on Earth.

 **EG:** And yet your species has a long and celebrated history of cannibalism.

 **JB:** Forget about the cat! The stepmother said, “It’s only the light off the chimney-pot.” But Hansel wasn’t looking at a cat or a chimney-pot. Every time he turned around, he dropped one of the white pebbles on the ground to mark his path.

 **EG:** Ah! Clever lad.

 **JB:** Indeed. Soon, the woodcutter and his wife led the children into a clearing deep in the forest, where he built a fire to keep them warm. “Wait here,” the woodcutter said. “Your stepmother and I are going to chop wood, and we’ll be back for you later.” The woodcutter and his wife left. Hansel and Gretel sat by the fire and ate their bread, but the woodcutter didn’t come back.

“Hansel, I’m frightened,” Gretel said.

“Wait,” Hansel said. Sure enough, the moon rose and illuminated the white pebbles Hansel had dropped along the path. The children followed the pebbles and soon arrived home.

 **EG:** Did the children not know the way otherwise?

 **JB:** What? No.

 **EG:** But they had presumably lived there all their lives, and they had walked the path only that morning. Are they really so unobservant that they needed a clear trail to follow?

 **JB:** They’re children!

 **EG:** And not very bright ones at that.

 **JB:** Anyway, Hansel and Gretel returned home. Their father was overjoyed to see them, but their stepmother was angry. So later that night, she said to the woodcutter, “We must be rid of those children. Tomorrow, we will lead them deeper into the woods, where they can never find their way home. Do it, or you and I will starve.”

 **EG:** If she wanted them gone so badly, why didn’t she just kill them?

 **JB:** Garak!

 **EG:** Your other stories don’t seem to mind straight-up murder.

 **JB:** Tell you the truth, neither does this one, but the woodcutter wouldn’t let his wife go that far. Anyway, Hansel and Gretel overheard, but this time when Hansel went to gather pebbles, he found the door was locked and his stepmother had hidden the key.

 **EG:** Well, let’s hope this teaches them to pay attention to their surroundings.

 **JB:** They didn’t go out in the woods much! Anyway, the next day, the woodcutter woke his children, gave them each another crust of bread, and then he and his wife led them out into the forest. This time, they went deeper in than before, but every few feet, Hansel would turn around. “What are you looking at?” his stepmother asked.

“I see my little white pigeon on the roof,” Hansel said.

 **EG:** Really? He keeps a pigeon as a pet? Maybe your species is against eating cats, but a pigeon should be the first thing in the stewpot!

 **JB:** It wouldn’t have made much difference. The stepmother said, “It’s just the light on the chimney-pot.” But Hansel was really crumbling up his piece of bread and dropping the crumbs behind him.

 **EG:** I somehow doubt the moon will light breadcrumbs very well, and now the silly boy has nothing to eat at all.

 **JB:** Yes, well. Anyway, the woodcutter led the children to a deeper clearing, built a fire, and told them to wait. So the children sat down, and Gretel shared her bread with her brother. “Just wait,” Hansel said. “When the moon comes up, it will light the breadcrumbs and show us the way home.” But when the moon came up, there were no breadcrumbs, for the birds had eaten them all.

 **EG:** Well, Hansel is a bit of a ninny. Why didn’t he use bits of cloth from his clothes or mark trees or something? And isn’t there a path? Couldn’t they follow it back?

 **JB:** They’d taken a lot of turns, so they didn’t remember where to go. They were little children, not survivalists. So Hansel and Gretel started wandering the woods, eating roots and berries, for several days, until they were quite lost and faint with hunger. But then one day, they wandered into a clearing and in front of them was a house made out of gingerbread—that one, there, try it—with a roof made of frosting and windows made of spun sugar and a door made of gumdrops, with all manner of other sweets to decorate it.

 **EG:** Ah, so that’s why you went to the trouble of replicating this much sugar. It is delicious, my dear, but it seems impractical to build a house out of. Wouldn’t it fall apart the moment it rained?

 **JB:** We’re getting to that. The children were so hungry, they immediately ran to the house. Hansel pulled a shingle off the roof and Gretel popped out a window pane and they began to eat. But a moment later, they heard a voice saying, “Nibble, nibble, little mouse, who’s that nibbling at my house?”

 **EG:** Another one of those famous fairy tale villain lines, judging from your expression.

 **JB:** Just so. The door opened and a wizened old woman came out. She smiled at the children. “Oh, you poor dears,” she said. “You must be so hungry. Come inside and I’ll fix you a proper meal and give you a safe place to sleep.” And don’t even say it.

 **EG:** Say what?

 **JB:** That it’s a trap.

 **EG:** Oh, am I wrong about that again?

 **JB:** No, this time you’d be right. The old woman was really a witch who liked to eat children, and she built her house out of candy and magic to lure children inside so she could eat them.

 **EG:** Ah, there’s the murder and cannibalism I’ve come to expect from these stories! And you call Cardassian literature repetitive.

 **JB:** It is repetitive.

 **EG:** But the repetition is a device, designed to re-emphasize the morals, rather than just an unhealthy fascination with the grisly deaths of children.

 **JB:** Right…anyway…the witch took Hansel and Gretel inside, and fed them a hot meal and put them to bed. They slept soundly all night, but the next morning, the witch woke them very early. She gave Gretel a mop and bucket and told her to get to work, but she shoved Hansel in a cage and locked him up. “Now,” the witch said. “We’re going to fatten your brother up so I can eat him!”

 **EG:** It seems to me that waiting for a little boy to gain wait gives far too many opportunities for Gretel to make an escape, rouse the nearest village and lead a mob back to rescue him.

 **JB:** Maybe so, but Gretel wouldn’t leave her brother. So she was forced to clean the witch’s house and cook the best fattening meals for her brother, while she ate only the scraps. Every day, the witch would have Hansel hold out a finger so she could feel how fat he was getting. But the witch had very poor eyes, so every day Hansel held out a small bone to make it seem like he wasn’t gaining any weight at all.

 **EG:** Hansel seems to have two modes—extreme cleverness and unfathomable stupidity.

 **JB:** The breadcrumbs were really his plan b, you know.

 **EG:** Yes, but he wasn’t clever enough to just remember how to get home.

 **JB:** He was hungry and under a lot of stress at the time.

 **EG:** You just like making excuses for these characters.

 **JB:** Look, Garak, at some point, you just have to accept that people in fairy tales don’t behave like rational humans, all right?

 **EG:** All right, I’m sorry…eat some more gingerbread, it might make you feel better.

 **JB:** Right…after several weeks of this, the witch grew tired of waiting and said, “Fat or not, tomorrow your brother is going to be my supper!” Gretel cried, but there was nothing she could do. The next night, the witch told Gretel to heat the oven.

 **EG:** Not automatic, I take it.

 **JB:** No, it was wood burning. The witch told Gretel to crawl inside and see if it was hot enough.

 **EG:** Please tell me Gretel is more clever than her brother in this case.

 **JB:** She is. Gretel immediately realized the witch intended to shut her inside and cook her as well as her brother. So she asked the witch how to open the oven door. “Stupid girl,” the witch said. “Like this.” She opened the door, and Gretel asked how to crawl in. “Stupid girl,” the witch said. “Like this.” She turned, and leaned forward, and Gretel pushed her inside and slammed the oven door!

 **EG:** So the witch, in addition to being blind, is even stupider than these children. I wonder how many fairy tales would fall apart if the villain was in any way clever.

 **JB:** Most of them, they’re for children. Gretel found the witch’s keys and freed her brother. Then they ran around and opened all the cupboards, where they found lots of money and jewels that the witch had stolen from her victims.

 **EG:** I thought you said she ate children.

 **JB:** She probably lured some adults as well. I notice you’ve finished most of the marzipan.

 **EG:** It is rather tempting, I admit.

 **JB:** Exactly. Hansel and Gretel put as much of the money as they could into their pockets and left the house, going back through the woods to find their way home.

 **EG:** Why?

 **JB:** What?

 **EG:** Why would they leave? They have a house made of food, with plenty more food and money inside. Why would they go back to poor parents who were happy to leave them in the woods?

 **JB:** Because they missed their father, I suppose. Aren’t you the one always banging on about family loyalty?

 **EG:** My dear, there is family loyalty and then there’s common sense. They couldn’t find their way home to begin with, what makes them think they’ll get home now?

 **JB:** Well, they had money, so maybe they planned to find a village and barter passage home. Anyway, soon they came to a river with no way to cross. Hansel spotted a swan on the bank, and asked the swan to carry them across the river.

 **EG:** …what.

 **JB:** The swan agreed and carried them over one at a time.

 **EG:** A swan.

 **JB:** Yes.

 **EG:** Carried children.

 **JB:** Yes.

 **EG:** With pockets full of gold.

 **JB:** It’s what the story says.

 **EG:** I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.

 **JB:** So the swan took them across, and soon Hansel and Gretel began to recognize landmarks and finally found their way home.

 **EG:** Did the swan transport them through the forest they were lost in to begin with?

 **JB:** Maybe. They got back to their cottage, where their father was ecstatic to see them, and happy they had money to live on now. And the children were happy to be home and that their cruel stepmother had died in the interim.

 **EG:** Of course she did.

 **JB:** So, what do you think the lesson is?

 **EG:** Be more observant of your surroundings and use better landmarks than breadcrumbs. And if you’re stuck, murder your host and steal her belongings.

 **JB:** The witch was going to eat them.

 **EG:** True, but that would have been a quicker death than starving in the woods. What’s the actual moral?

 **JB:** Don’t let strangers lure you in with candy.

 **EG:** Ah, much like Little Red, then.

 **JB:** It’s a good message to impart.

 **EG:** And what am I supposed to think of the fact that you’ve given me so much candy this evening? Are you fattening me up to eat me, Doctor?

 **JB:** No, but it’s gratifying to think I could lull you into a false sense of security by feeding you sweets.

 **EG:** Don’t count it.


	3. The Emperor's New Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This does refer to the "Jack and the Beanstalk" chapter from the original work, so please refer to that first.

**Garak’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**EG:** I hope tonight’s story doesn’t require any special confectionaries.

 **JB:** No, though it’s another one that’s vocational.

 **EG:** Well, that should be gratifying. Tea? And I’ve got a batch of Cardassian pastries here if you’d like to try them.

 **JB:** Thank you. Tonight’s story is called “The Emperor’s New Clothes.”

 **EG:** I am, as ever, eager to hear your story.

 **JB:** Once upon a time, there was an Emperor, who was very vain and foolish. All he cared about were new clothes, and always looking the best he could.

 **EG:** I like him already. He must have kept the tailors in his kingdom very well-paid.

 **JB:** Quite so. His kingdom ran smoothly in spite of its ruler’s foolishness, and the Emperor was very rich and always on the lookout for new fashions. One day, two charlatans came to the capital city and demanded to see the Emperor, saying they were weavers of the highest caliber, able to make a cloth finer than any other. They claimed that this cloth was magic and could not be seen by anyone who was unfit for his office or who was unusually stupid.

 **EG:** And then the Emperor laughed them out of his castle because if that cloth existed, no one who believed in it would be able to see it anyway.

 **JB:** No, Garak, it’s a fairy tale and we’ve already established the Emperor isn’t terribly clever. He believed the charlatans and immediately set them up in his best workroom, paid them a substantial amount of money and told them they had _carte blanche_ to buy whatever they needed to make their cloth.

 **EG:** It’s a miracle his kingdom wasn’t bankrupted already.

 **JB:** He had a ruling council to keep him from ruining it entirely. The charlatans ordered the best thread and silk and materials, and set up two looms in the workroom, where they pretended to weave late into the night, even though there was nothing there. The materials they ordered went straight into their bags to be resold later.

 **EG:** Clearly I’ve been working myself too hard, if all I have to do is find a rich man stupid enough to pay me to do nothing.

 **JB:** Unfortunately, I doubt you’ll convince Captain Sisko this cloth is a thing.

 **EG:** No, but some of my colleagues back on Cardassia were certainly that moronic.

 **JB:** I’ll take your word for it. After several days, the Emperor wanted to know how the cloth was coming, for everyone in the kingdom knew about it by now and were eager to know how stupid their neighbors were. But the Emperor was afraid to go into the room himself—he didn’t think himself stupid, but there was a niggling doubt in his mind, so instead he sent his most wise and trusted council member instead.

 **EG:** Well, at least someone is self-aware in this story.

 **JB:** Wouldn’t say that. The minister went down, but all he saw were two men working at empty looms. He was shocked, for he had always thought himself a wise man, more than capable of doing his duty. He thought, no one must know I am truly a fool! The charlatans welcomed him inside, and asked him what he thought of the cloth. “It’s beautiful!” he exclaimed. “The best I’ve seen! I shall tell the emperor how pleased I am with it!” The charlatans pointed to the looms, describing patterns and colors which the minister committed to memory so no one would think him a fool.

 **EG:** Honestly, everyone in this kingdom is a complete idiot. I don’t think I’ve met anyone that stupid! Except perhaps a few of the Ferengi, but they seem more the type to make that cloth than try to see it.

 **JB:** I have to admit, I can’t help but picture Quark as the false weaver when I tell the story. The minister went back to the Emperor, and described the cloth just as the charlatans had. The Emperor ordered more materials for them, and the charade continued. The next week, the Emperor sent another trust minister down, and the same thing happened to him as the first one. Nevertheless, he went back to the Emperor and claimed he could see the cloth, describing its beautiful colors and patterns even though he’d seen none of it.

 **EG:** I'm beginning to think the entire council is playing a practical joke on the Emperor to break him of his fashion addiction. There can’t be that many fools in one kingdom!

 **JB:** Finally, the Emperor grew too impatient to wait any longer, so he and the two ministers and all of his council went down to the workroom to see the wonderful cloth. The two ministers who had already been down pointed to the empty looms, praising the imaginary cloth with the assumption everyone else could see it. The Emperor could only stare at the nothing that he saw, thinking he was a fool after all but unwilling to let anyone know. Like his ministers, he exclaimed over the cloth, saying how fine it was. Everyone else, unwilling to let anyone know that he might be foolish or unfit for office, did the same, and encouraged the Emperor to order a suit of the cloth to wear at the next day’s procession.

 **EG:** Now I know they’re all in on it. Even if they believed the cloth was there, they wouldn’t want the stupidest people in the kingdom to see the Emperor in nothing. Clearly every one of them is disloyal to the Emperor and should be arrested, interrogated and executed at once!

 **JB:** Garak! It’s a children’s story!

 **EG:** Last week, the story was about an evil witch who used candy to lure fat children in to be eaten. I don’t think imprisonment and execution are inappropriate. It would drive home the point.

 **JB:** Anyway, the Emperor agreed and gave the two charlatans new titles and ordered the suit be made at once. The charlatans burned up their candles and mimed sewing all night, to make it seem like they were finishing the suit. The next day, the Emperor came in with his servants and dressers to see the two charlatans, each holding their arms up as if showing off clothes. “Here is the shirt, and here are the trousers, and here is the coat,” they said. “They are so light it will feel as though you wear nothing at all, but that’s what makes them so fine.”

 **EG:** You chose this story to personally offend me, didn’t you?

 **JB:** Why would I do that?

 **EG:** I don’t know, but you did. Or else you wrote it yourself to see if I’d notice.

 **JB:** I assure you, this story is quite ancient. It was written by a man called Hans Christian Anderson, who wrote a number of fairy tales in the 19 th century.

 **EG:** Well, Mr. Anderson clearly knew a lot of idiots.

 **JB:** I’m sure he did. The court exclaimed over the clothes, and the charlatans asked the Emperor to undress and they would help him dress in his new clothes. The Emperor did so. The charlatans moved around him, pretending to put cloth and buckles on him in front of a long mirror.

“How magnificent you look!” cried the court, though of course none of them saw any clothes. “How well the pattern suits you!”

 **EG:** It’s amazing any of them could keep a straight face.

 **JB:** The minister in charge of the procession announced it was time to start. The Emperor took a few more turns in the mirror. “It fits me very well, doesn’t it?” he asked, as though admiring his suit.

Everyone agreed and the servants who were to carry his train reached down and pretended to pick up his train, even though none of them could see or feel anything, and the procession started. The entire city had turned out to watch, and everyone exclaimed over the Emperor’s clothes. “Doesn’t the Emperor look fine? This is the best of all his suits!”

 **EG:** Now, really! The court, perhaps, but of all the people in the city, no one has figured the whole charade out?

 **JB:** Well, someone did. A little child standing in front cried out, “But he’s not wearing anything!” His father shushed him, but the people who heard started muttering, and soon the entire crowd was crying out, “He’s not wearing anything! The Emperor is naked!”

 **EG:** Oh, so only a child would notice. Given the relative cleverness of fairy tale characters, I’m not surprised. So what did the Emperor do?

 **JB:** Well, this is where the usual variations come in. In Anderson’s original story, the Emperor realizes he’s been fooled, but thinks the procession must go on, so he holds his head high and keeps walking. However, in more modern versions, the Emperor stops the procession, proclaims the child is correct and rewards the boy for being unafraid to speak the truth even when no one else was.

 **EG:** I see. And the charlatans?

 **JB:** In some versions, they make a clean getaway and move on to the next idiot. In other versions, they’re caught and thrown in jail for swindling the Emperor. So…what conclusions have you drawn?

 **EG:** Hmm…well, the obvious lesson is that if you find a city full of idiots, you should take advantage of it.

 **JB:** Well…okay…

 **EG:** You can never trust those around you to tell the truth, even if it makes you look foolish.

 **JB:** I really don’t think…

 **EG:** And, of course, tailors are not to be trusted to ever tell you the truth about anything.

 **JB:** Garak, that’s not what…

 **EG:** I’m teasing, my dear, though I do think you chose this one as a criticism of me in particular.

 **JB:** I really didn’t.

 **EG:** So what is the moral you humans typically accept?

 **JB:** That’s debated. Anderson wrote it as political satire, to point out the hypocrisy and stupidity of accepting things as true, even when they’re obviously false, because someone in authority told you to. But in the retellings, it’s framed with the moral being that you shouldn’t be afraid to speak the truth, even if no one else will.

 **EG:** A foolish lesson that would get you killed on Cardassia, and not very well-told at that.

 **JB:** How would you tell it?

 **EG:** I don’t know, but I’d make the Emperor and Minister less foolish. Perhaps with a bit of reframing, it could become another popular story on Ferenginar about not being afraid to swindle your customers because they’re all idiots anyway.

 **JB:** Yes, how did Rom and the Beanstalk turn out?

 **EG:** Ah…well, I did manage to sell the publication rights for a substantial fee, plus fifteen percent royalties, which was nice…it sold rather well and I am still seeing residuals, but I got into a dispute with my publishers about the licensing and adaptation rights, and with the war on I haven’t been able to take them to court over it. Still, once the war’s over, I should be able to settle the entire thing and retire comfortably.

 **JB:** Well, until then you can get to work on rewriting The Emperor’s New Clothes for them…the money you get from publishing that should cover your court bills.

 **EG:** Yes, it just might.


	4. The Little Mermaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested by AuroraNova and AncalagonDrakka.

**Elim Garak’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**JB:** So did you find a way to rewrite The Emperor’s New Clothes?

 **EG:** I’m working on it here and there. I think it will do even better than Rom and the Beanstalk.

 **JB:** Well, that’s good. I was inspired last week, so I think we’ll be sticking with Anderson for now. His stories tend to be more ambiguous than Grimm or Perrault, which should produce some interesting results.

 **EG:** Are his morals ambiguous, or is this your way of saying his stories don’t have morals?

 **JB:** Ah, ah! You know not to ask those questions before we’ve started. This one is called “The Little Mermaid.” Long ago, there was a vast kingdom under the sea, ruled by the merpeople, who were half human and half fish.

 **EG:** Excuse me? I know your species will attempt to mate with everything in the galaxy, but fish-human hybrids? How does that even work?

 **JB:** Well, they’re human except instead of legs they have giant fish tales…I can find you a picture, if you like…here.

 **EG:** And you say they live at the bottom of the ocean? Isn’t the bottom of Earth’s ocean rather cold and dark? Why would they be so thin and impractically dressed?

 **JB:** They’re imaginary…from Greek mythology, actually. Mermaids were originally monsters that took the form of beautiful women from the waist up and sang to lure sailors to their deaths and then eat them.

 **EG:** Ah…well, they still look impractical, but at least they’re consistent with the rest of your mythos.

 **JB:** Well, those were the Greek mermaids. The merpeople in this story don’t do that. They lived at the bottom of the ocean in their own beautiful kingdom, which was ruled by a good King who had seven daughters. His daughters grew up beneath the water and were not allowed to go see the land until they were fifteen years of age.

 **EG:** Why not? Were they incapable of luring humans to their deaths before that?

 **JB:** They didn’t lure people to their deaths! They stayed below the water for their own safety. Once they were fifteen, they could go up whenever they wanted.

The youngest of the sisters watched all her sisters go up one by one and listened eagerly to their stories of what they had seen on the land. She was impatient for her birthday to come so that she could see the wonders of the surface. Finally, the day came and the little mermaid was allowed to swim to the surface.

 **EG:** Does she have a name? Or did everyone just call her “The Little Mermaid?”

 **JB:** She didn’t have a name in the original text…though the most popular retelling named her Ariel, if that helps.

 **EG:** Not really. I just find it interesting that so many of these stories don’t give the characters names. It’s always “The King” or “the witch” or “the Beast.”

 **JB:** What’s your point, Garak?

 **EG:** My point is that you seem to prefer description to simply naming characters. I suppose with multiple retellings names would get lost, but it does draw attention to specific characteristics rather than a whole person. Even the characters who have names are named according to descriptions and symbolism more often than not.

 **JB:** If you say so…may I continue now?

 **EG:** By all means.

 **JB:** The little mermaid swam to the surface and saw a large ship, where a party was taking place to celebrate the birthday of a prince. The mermaid watched in wonder as the people danced and laughed and sang, but her eyes were especially drawn to the handsome young prince. She watched for over an hour when suddenly, a storm sprang up. The ship was tossed and many of the passengers were lost.

 **EG:** Did they not check the weather before they decided to have a party on the ocean?

 **JB:** They couldn’t check the weather at that time.

 **EG:** But sure there were signs that a storm was coming, and while I may not know much about sailing, I do know that you don’t want to be on a boat when that happens.

 **JB:** They were all having so much fun that they didn’t notice. The prince was thrown overboard and began to drown. The mermaid spotted him and swam after him. She pulled him to the shore and would have stayed with him, but then a group of women from a nearby convent came out and the mermaid dove back into the sea. The prince didn’t see her and assumed that the women from the convent had saved him.

 **EG:** I’m assuming the women in this kingdom are all known as strong swimmers.

 **JB:** Could be, it was coastal. The little mermaid returned to her kingdom beneath the sea, but she could not put the young prince out of her mind. Her grandmother noticed her preoccupation and asked what was on her mind, and the little mermaid told her about the human. She asked what made humans so different from mermaids.

 **EG:** Besides the obvious?

 **JB:** The little mermaid had sensed something in the prince that she didn’t have. Her grandmother explained to her that humans have very short physical lives, but once they die, their immortal souls live forever.

 **EG:** I take it this was in a time when your people still believed in gods and life after death and other such nonsense.

 **JB:** I wouldn’t call it nonsense. We have no evidence one way or another.

 **EG:** It still sounds rather Bajoran to me.

 **JB:** Similar, I suppose, though I haven’t made a thorough study into Bajoran sociology.

 **EG:** Perhaps we should invite Major Kira to these sessions so you can see how her philosophies differ from mine. It could be very illuminating.

 **JB:** Or it could be very violent. Anyway, it’s a fairy tale, so you can write it all off as fantasy if you want to. The little mermaid was fascinated by the concept of a soul that lived on after the body died. She asked her grandmother why mermaids didn’t have immortal souls, and her grandmother said that mermaids lived much longer than humans, and then when they died they turned into sea foam.

 **EG:** I’d say that’s illogical, but it makes more sense than an immortal soul.

 **JB:** Perhaps. The little mermaid asked if there was any way a mermaid could gain a soul, but her grandmother said it was too dangerous to even think about. The little mermaid was despondent for days before she couldn’t take it any longer and went to see a sea-witch, who lived outside the kingdom. The sea-witch heard the mermaid’s story, and the mermaid asked if there was anything to be done. “Yes,” the sea-witch said. “If you marry the human prince, you will share his soul and live on with him.”

 **EG:** Marriage? That’s all it would take, a legal document binding them as family?

 **JB:** The idea was that marriage was formed from true love, and if the prince truly loved the mermaid as she loved him, they would share a soul.

 **EG:** The characters in these stories tend to fall in love very quickly, don’t they?

 **JB:** A bit, yes. The mermaid asked how she could marry the human prince. The sea-witch said she could give the mermaid legs so she could walk on land, but every step would feel like stepping on knives, and the mermaid would not be able to speak above land. But she would be able to dance beautifully, so she would have a chance to get the prince to fall in love with her. The mermaid agreed.

 **EG:** The price sounds rather high to me. I wouldn’t want to walk at all, let alone dance if it felt like my feet were always being cut up.

 **JB:** She was young and in love. Didn’t you ever do anything stupid when you were young and in love?

 **EG:** We’re not discussing me, we’re discussing this young mermaid, and I think she’s making a serious mistake. She’d never heard of such a thing as an immortal soul before, and she’s just going to blindly believe in such a thing to the point where she’d put herself in considerable pain just for the chance to obtain one?

 **JB:** I suppose she figured the chance to live forever in paradise was enough of a reward for that suffering. It was a very common religious belief in those days. So the sea-witch gave the mermaid a potion and told her to go to the land and take it. The mermaid did so. She swam to the bank where she’d taken the prince and took the potion. Her body was in pain, but at the end, her tail had turned into a pair of legs. She stood up, and it was as the sea-witch had said. But the pain didn’t matter to her.

 **EG:** Did the sea-witch give her clothes?

 **JB:** It doesn’t say. I suppose we can assume she found something to wear. Soon enough, the prince came across her on the beach. He was astonished by her beauty and took her back to his castle. He wasn’t bothered by her inability to speak, because she danced so well for him. He was delighted by her and kept her as a constant companion.

 **EG:** Tell me, my dear, did princes often take in strange women they found wandering on the beach?

 **JB:** Not often, but pretty women never have trouble finding help in these stories. And the mermaid was sweet-natured, even if she couldn’t talk, so the prince had no reason not to keep her around. The mermaid fell more in love with him every day, though he never seemed to regard her as more than a friend or sister.

One day, the prince’s parents announced that he would soon be married to a princess from a nearby kingdom. The prince protested, saying that the only woman he could love was the one who had rescued him from the ocean. The mermaid’s heart jumped hearing that, but she couldn’t tell him she had saved him.

 **EG:** Could she not write it down? Or give him some other clue?

 **JB:** They didn’t read or write in the underwater kingdom, so no she couldn’t. The prince finally agreed to meet the princess. To his astonishment, she was one of the women who had found him on the beach, the ones he assumed had saved him. “It was you!” he cried, and announced at once that he would marry the princess. The mermaid’s heart broke upon hearing this. She wandered back to the beach to seek solace.

 **EG:** Is she going to walk into the ocean to end her suffering?

 **JB:** Not in this version. On the beach, she found her sisters waiting for her, their hair cut short. “We sold our hair to the sea-witch,” the eldest explained. “In exchange for this.” She gave the little mermaid a dagger, and told her that if she killed the prince on his wedding night, his blood would turn her legs back into a tail, so that she could return to the sea and live out her natural life as a mermaid.

 **EG:** A sensible sacrifice. After all, he is marrying a woman under false pretenses, and his immortal soul won’t be damaged at all. It sounds like everyone gets to be happy.

 **JB:** She wouldn’t be happy, though. She hadn’t gotten a soul herself.

 **EG:** Oh, really? Even assuming that immortal souls were real, who would want to live forever? If you ask me, three hundred years is quite long enough for anyone to live. What could you possibly do if you lived forever in paradise?

 **JB:** Well…that would require an extensive lesson in the human religion of Christianity…why don’t I lend you a few PADDs on the subject so you can read up on that tomorrow?

 **EG:** That would be much appreciated.

 **JB:** The eldest sister continued speaking, saying that if the mermaid did not kill the prince, she would die of a broken heart in the morning and return to foam. Well, the mermaid took the knife. That night, the prince and the princess were married aboard a great ship. The mermaid watched sadly, and danced for the happy couple, and felt her heartbreak more and more. That night, she crept into the prince’s bedroom, where he slept beside his young bride. She raised the knife to stab his heart, but then she looked at her face and couldn’t bring herself to kill him. Instead, she turned the blade on herself and stabbed her own heart.

 **EG:** Well, really! Murder I’ve come to expect from these stories, but surely you don’t want to encourage your children to commit suicide for a teenage crush!

 **JB:** She would have died anyway.

 **EG:** Mermaids must be very fragile creatures if they die just because someone doesn’t love them.

 **JB:** The mermaid died, but then she awoke to find herself floating in air. “Welcome, sister,” said a voice. “Where am I?” the mermaid asked, finding she had a new voice. “Who are you?”

“We are the Daughters of Air,” the voice said. “We all sought immortal souls, and through our selflessness, we were given the chance to earn one. We float above the mortal world and look in on its children to help them learn virtue. After three hundred years, we are given a soul and can move on to Heaven.”

“Three hundred years?” the mermaid asked.

“Yes,” the voice said. “But our time can change. If you look on a child who is good, your time is reduced by one year. But if you look on a child who is bad, one day is added on.”

 **EG:** That’s rather arbitrary.

 **JB:** The mermaid was offered a place with the Daughters of Air, which she accepted. The end.

 **EG:** The end? What about her sisters? What about the prince, who woke up the next morning to find his friend dead on the floor of his room? What about the sea-witch? And did the mermaid earn her soul?

 **JB:** Anderson didn’t answer any of those questions…so, though I fear I know the answer, what do you think the moral is?

 **EG:** That you shouldn’t let sentiment get in the way of helping everyone be happy in the long-run. And that you shouldn’t chase intangible things because it will just lead to misery and death.

 **JB:** Yes, I thought so.

 **EG:** Well, what did Mr. Anderson say the moral was?

 **JB:** It’s ambiguous, but the point was that self-sacrifice will be rewarded and that sometimes, you should just take a leap of faith.

 **EG:** Well, that’s rather ridiculous. You can’t live based on faith alone.

 **JB:** The ending has been rewritten a few times so that the mermaid and the prince get to be together. But those versions usually remove the religious overtones.

 **EG:** I can see why. The whole thing was utterly ludicrous. I do look forward to reading about the religion, though.

JB: You’ll have a lot of reading to do.

 **EG:** Well, it may help me understand more of these stories. Until next time, then.


	5. Bluebeard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, people! Thanks so much for all your lovely responses to the stories so far!
> 
> I just want to let you all know that I'm moving this weekend, so updates won't be coming as rapidly. I've got two more chapters written after this, plus my list of all your requests/all the stories I had planned already, but since I'll be settling in and hopefully starting a new job, I may not have as much time to write.
> 
> Thus, I'm going to move to a once a week posting schedule that I'll do my best to stick to. From now on, updates will happen on Friday mornings.
> 
> Thank you all so much! If there's a story you'd like that hasn't been done yet (either here or in the original fic), please let me know!

**Julian Bashir’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**EG:** I hope you’ve chosen something less ambiguous this week.

 **JB:** It’s not Anderson again if that’s what you’re asking. Did you finish the readings on Christianity I gave you last week?

 **EG:** Yes. It was quite illuminating. Did all humans subscribe to it?

 **JB:** Not all of them, no. Not even most of them, really. In fact, we had quite a lot of wars over it. But most of the stories we’re covering come from people who did believe it.

 **EG:** I shall endeavor to keep that in mind. And is today’s story one that requires extensive knowledge of Christ and the Commandments?

 **JB:** Not at all, though there is prayer involved. Tonight’s story is called Bluebeard, and it’s bound to offend your sense of decency.

 **EG:** I don’t believe there is any story you could tell me that will be any more offensive than the ones I’ve already heard.

 **JB:** We’ll see. Once upon a time, there was a very rich but ugly man who lived in a grand manor. He had everything he wanted, but he lacked a wife, and as we all know, a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.

 **EG:** That’s not from the fairy tale, that’s from that insipid romance novel you lent me last month.

 **JB:** It seemed fitting. And you enjoyed Pride and Prejudice, I know.

 **EG:** I found a few of the characters engaging. That doesn’t mean I want you dropping quotes into everyday conversation.

 **JB:** I apologize. The rich man had a blue beard, which was what made him so ugly, and thus everyone called him Lord Bluebeard.

 **EG:** Another of those symbolic descriptive names. Imagine if we all had descriptive names on this station.

 **JB:** It might be useful.

 **EG:** But very insulting. It’s bad enough half the people already call me “The Cardassian.”

 **JB:** I’m sorry.

 **EG:** Oh, don’t be sorry for me. Being Cardassian is at least a point of pride for me. I’m sure this man hated being reminded of his deformity every time someone spoke to him.

 **JB:** Well, maybe, but it had been so long the nickname had stuck. Lord Bluebeard, as I mentioned, wanted a wife, and as it happened, his neighbor had two very lovely daughters. So Bluebeard went and asked for one of their hands in marriage.

 **EG:** Did he know the young ladies?

 **JB:** Not really. He just knew they were the most beautiful women around.

 **EG:** I would chide him for that, but it seems that looks are the only basis for any relationship in these stories.

 **JB:** Well, there was an ancient Greek belief that good looks were a gift from the Gods for being virtuous, and that carried over into civilizations long after the Ancient Greeks were gone…

 **EG:** Ah, so we’re to assume that anyone who is described as beautiful is naturally a good person?

 **JB:** Exactly.

 **EG:** What about the evil queen in Snow White?

 **JB:** …it’s just literary shorthand. Can I please get on with the story?

 **EG:** Oh, by all means.

 **JB:** Thank you. The two girls were horrified by Bluebeard’s appearance and spent the next several weeks arguing about who should be his wife.

 **EG:** Other than a blue beard, was there any reason to refuse him? He was financially secure and their father was clearly in agreement to the match.

 **JB:** I was getting to that. It wasn’t just his appearance—Bluebeard had had several wives before, but all had vanished under mysterious circumstances.

 **EG:** Ah. That would make a difference. Perhaps if you tell this story again, you should lead off with that and mention the blue beard after.

 **JB:** I’ll keep it in mind. Bluebeard was determined to win one of them over, so he invited the two women and their father and brothers to his manor house. While there, the guests were served the finest food, the ladies were given the finest clothes and jewels, and everyone had such a grand time that they all stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, laughing and dancing.

 **EG:** I see he learned a lesson from our old friend the Beast in that the best way to win a woman over is to shower her with material wealth.

 **JB:** Well, it worked. The younger daughter was enthralled with all of this, and as she spent time with Bluebeard, she found him charming and polite, and soon began to think that his beard wasn’t so hideous after all. When they returned from the manor, the younger daughter announced that she would accept his offer of marriage.

 **EG:** Did she conveniently forget about the missing wives?

 **JB:** I suppose she didn’t think they mattered. Bluebeard and the lady were married and she moved into the manor house. About a month later, Bluebeard announced that he had been called away on business and would be gone for several weeks. He told his wife that while he was away, she was welcome to invite her friends and family to the manor, have anything they wished and go wherever she pleased. He gave her a bunch of keys and told her they opened all the doors in the manor. He told her which key went to which door, but when he reached the smallest key, he said, “You must not use this one. It opens the last door on the third floor, and you must not enter.”

 **EG:** Then why give her the key to begin with?

 **JB:** It was a test of character. So Bluebeard left, and his wife immediately invited her friends and sister to come to the manor. While there, they had great fun exploring the manor, seeing all the treasures Bluebeard had amassed. The lady was generous, giving gifts to her friends as her husband had permitted and having great fun with all of them, but throughout the party her curiosity pulled at her, for she desperately wanted to know what was behind the door her husband had forbidden her to open. Finally, one night when all the guests had gone to bed, she could stand it no longer. She got up and went straight to the door and put in the tiny key. The door opened, and inside, she found the bodies of Bluebeard’s former wives, hanging up by hooks, their blood covering the floor.

 **EG:** Really, my dear, I think you take far too much pleasure in horrifying me! It’s amazing to me that you humans grow up so naïve and cheery!

 **JB:** We manage, somehow. Well, the lady was so horrified that she dropped the key in the blood. She snatched it up, locked the door and ran away. But the next day, when she tried to wash the blood from the key, it wouldn’t go away, because the key was magic.

 **EG:** Of course it was.

 **JB:** Soon enough, her guests left except for her sister. Shortly after that, Bluebeard returned and the first thing he did was ask for his keys. Shaking, his wife returned the keys. Bluebeard immediately spotted the blood on the smallest key. “You have disobeyed me,” he said. “And for that, you must die.”

 **EG:** Well, of course she must! If he allowed her to live, she’d tell everyone what he’d done.

 **JB:** So you think he should get away with murdering his wives?

 **EG:** I’m sure he had good reason.

 **JB:** I suppose after the first one, keeping his secret might be a reason.

 **EG:** Well, why did he kill the first one?

 **JB:** It doesn’t say.

 **EG:** These stories are all very incomplete.

 **JB:** Perrault was writing this based on oral retellings. A lot of it got lost. Anyway, the lady wept and begged, but Bluebeard only said she had to die. So the wife begged a chance to say her prayers first.

 **EG:** Did she hope that her loving God would save her immortal soul?

 **JB:** No, she was much cleverer than that. You see, she expected her brothers to arrive that day. Bluebeard agreed to allow her to say her prayers, so she rushed upstairs and asked her sister to keep an eye on the window to see if their brothers were coming. A minute later, Bluebeard called up, “Are you finished?”

“Just a moment!” she called. “Do you see our brothers?”

“No,” her sister said.

“Your prayers should be over!”

“A minute more! Are our brothers coming?”

“I’m coming up!”

“I see them!” her sister said, just as Bluebeard burst in. He grabbed his wife by her hair and dragged her down the stairs, but just as he raised his sword to kill her, her brothers burst into the castle. Seeing their sister in danger, the brothers drew their swords and killed Bluebeard.

 **EG:** Well, that was just silly of him, allowing his wife time to wait for a rescue. Though it was clever of her to use religion to buy time.

 **JB:** Yes. So the new widow, using her husband’s wealth, buried his dead wives, bought her brothers commissions in the army, found her sister a husband, and later found a husband for herself who was kind and who she loved. The end.

 **EG:** That was a rather rushed ending.

 **JB:** It’s like that sometimes. So…the lesson?

 **EG:** If you’re going to kill someone, do so right away and make it look like an accident.

 **JB:** Is that really something you want to teach children?

 **EG:** We went over this with Snow White—yes, when they’re old enough to have good judgement. What was that supposed to teach them?

 **JB:** That curiosity can be dangerous.

 **EG:** She survived in the end, didn’t she? I think this story is very muddled in its intentions.

 **JB:** Perhaps…I’ll see you next time.

 **EG:** Try to find something more cheerful, could you? I think I’ve had quite enough of murder and mayhem.

 **JB:** That doesn’t sound like you.

 **EG:** Necessary elimination is different from poorly motivated killing.

 **JB:** I’ll keep it in mind.


	6. Rumpelstiltskin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested by wcdarling.

**Julian Bashir’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**JB:** All right, Garak, you asked for something with less murder and mayhem, correct?

 **EG:** I did. I hope you’ve found something appropriate, though I’ve noticed a pattern of violence in these stories.

 **JB:** Well, this one doesn’t have murder, though it does have some mayhem. We wouldn’t have a story without that. However, I hope I can make up for it by telling you it’s the Chief’s least favorite story.

 **EG:** Oh? And why is that?

 **JB:** He met the main character once. Anyway, this one is called Rumpelstiltskin.

 **EG:** Ah, yes, I recall hearing about that. But I didn’t get the full context, so I look forward to you illuminating it.

 **JB:** Once upon a time, there was a poor miller who had a daughter. The miller was a proud, boastful man, who told all sorts of wild stories.

 **EG:** Would he be a relative of the boy who cried wolf?

 **JB:** Unlikely. The other villagers generally ignored the miller’s boasting, but then one day he was called before the king on an unrelated matter. The miller, wanting to make himself sound more important than he was, boasted to the King that his daughter could spin straw into gold.

 **EG:** At which point, the King laughed and threw him out of the castle…or are we dealing with the same level of intelligence that plagued the Emperor who thought someone could weave clothes only clever people could see?

 **JB:** I suppose when you live in a fairy-tale world, you tend to believe in magic. The King was very greedy and ordered the miller to bring his daughter to the castle. The miller fetched his daughter and took her before the King, upon which the King took the daughter to a room full of straw and a spinning wheel. “Spin all this straw to gold by morning,” he ordered. “Or else I will cut off your head!”

 **EG:** Well, that’s rather extreme. It’s not as though she was the one lying to him. And really, lying isn’t a crime that’s punishable by death!

 **JB:** In some versions, he just threatens to lock her in the dungeon forever, but as I said, the King was very greedy, and he was determined to get that gold. Well, naturally, the girl didn’t know how to spin straw into gold and soon she began to cry. But just as she’d given up all hope, the door opened and a little dwarf came in. “Don’t cry,” the dwarf said. “What’s the matter?”

The girl explained her problem, and the dwarf smiled. “I can spin the straw into gold,” he said. “But what will you give me in return?”

 **EG:** If he can spin straw into gold, why not just take a little bit of that when he’s done?

 **JB:** If he could spin straw into gold, why would he need to take the gold he spun for the girl? No, he wanted something of more sentimental value. The girl thought, and then gave him her ring, which had belonged to her mother, who was dead.

 **EG:** Is it a requirement that everyone’s mother be dead?

 **JB:** Natural childbirth was much more dangerous back then, so yes. The dwarf took the ring and began to spin. The girl watched for a moment before she fell asleep. When she awoke, there was no sign of the dwarf, but she was surrounded by mountains of gold.

 **EG:** Was he creating gold coins? Gold sheets? Or just gold filament?

 **JB:** Depends on the version, but it doesn’t matter because it could all be converted to money. The King came in, but instead of being impressed, he grew even more greedy now that it appeared the miller’s story was true. So he took the girl to an even bigger room, filled with even more straw, and ordered her to spin it all by morning or he’d cut off her head.

Well, things went about as they had the night before. The girl cried, the dwarf appeared and offered to spin for her, and she gave him her locket, containing a small portrait of her mother in return. The dwarf spun all the straw into gold and then vanished.

 **EG:** Why couldn’t he simply show her how to do it so he wouldn’t have to keep showing up to help her? If she had that skill, it would be much easier on everyone.

 **JB:** It was an innate magic in him that the girl didn’t possess. He couldn’t teach her to spin straw into gold any more than you can teach me to grow scales.

 **EG:** I will accept that answer, even though I can’t imagine what sort of evolutionary benefit comes from the ability to turn a theoretically edible item into a non-edible item that only has value because of social norms.

 **JB:** Maybe his species evolved to eat gold instead.

 **EG:** And to have a radar to tell him when someone happens to have that exact problem?

 **JB:** Garak, if you’re going to nitpick every detail I’m afraid we’ll be here all night.

 **EG:** Ah, yes, and what would Major Kira say if I were seen leaving your quarters in the morning?

 **JB:** Garak!

 **EG:** I apologize, my dear. Please, continue.

 **JB:** The King returned the next morning and was pleased. So he took the girl to an even larger room and told her, “If you spin all this straw into gold for me, I will marry you and make you my queen. If you do not, I will kill you.” The poor girl sat down and cried, and the dwarf came and said he would spin the straw into gold.

“But I have nothing left to give you!” the girl said.

“All I ask is for your first-born child,” the dwarf said.

 **EG:** A child? What could he want with a child?

 **JB:** I suppose he was lonely, being the only one of his kind. Some versions imply that he ate babies, but we usually don’t tell those anymore.

 **EG:** Which is a departure from the rest of the genre.

 **JB:** The girl had no choice but to agree. So the dwarf started spinning and the girl fell asleep, and when she awoke all the straw was spun. The King came in and was pleased, and he and the miller’s daughter were married soon afterward.

 **EG:** Why would she want to marry the man who imprisoned her, made her do an impossible task and threatened to kill her if she failed?

 **JB:** Well, it lifted her out of poverty. In some versions, she marries the King’s son instead, who’s kinder and less greedy than his father. Anyway, they got married and a year later, the Queen had a beautiful bouncing boy. But immediately after the birth of the new prince was announced, the dwarf appeared in the nursery when the Queen was there alone. He demanded to be paid what she had promised. The Queen, very much afraid of what her husband would do if he found out what she had done and already attached to her child, begged the dwarf to reconsider. The dwarf refused, but as she kept pleading, he relented, and said he would let her keep the child if she could guess his name within three days.

 **EG:** Why would he offer her that chance? She made the agreement, she should honor it.

 **JB:** And give up her child? Would you?

 **EG:** Perhaps not, but she shouldn’t have agreed to do so in the first place. Also, she’s the Queen—couldn’t she call her guards and have the dwarf thrown in the dungeon?

 **JB:** As I said, she didn’t want the King to find out she couldn’t spin straw into gold, and if she did that the whole story would come out.

 **EG:** That does raise another point—why didn’t the King ask her to spin straw to gold in the year they were married?

 **JB:** I think I read somewhere that she told him she couldn’t do it because she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Or maybe she managed to make him be less greedy through true love or something.

 **EG:** A feeble explanation, but I suppose it will serve the purpose of the story.

 **JB:** Exactly. The Queen agreed to the deal and began to list every name she knew. “Is it Jack? Ralph? Harold?” The dwarf laughed and told her they were all incorrect before he disappeared. The Queen called her trusted maid and ordered her to bring every book of names she could find. She stayed up all night reading them. When the dwarf came the next day, she guessed more. “Is it Aurelius? Ganymede?” She guessed all the strange and unusual name she could remember, but the dwarf just laughed and told her no.

 **EG:** It seems that an interrogation is in order. If it were me, I would have had his name in just under an hour.

 **JB:** She wouldn’t know anything about your craft. That night, the queen, in her despair, sent her trusted maid out to find the little man. The maid went all through town and into the forest. Eventually, she came to a clearing where she saw a bright fire. The little man was dancing around it, cackling and saying, “Tomorrow I will take the Queen’s child, for no one knows my name is Rumpelstiltskin!”

 **EG:** You’d think he’d be more careful. What was he doing, shouting his name out where anyone could hear him?

 **JB:** Well, remember this is a kingdom that runs on fairy tale intelligence. The maid ran all the way back to the castle and told the Queen straight away. The next day, when the dwarf came, the Queen thought for a moment. “Is your name…Conrad?” she asked.

“No!” said the dwarf.

“Is it…Peter?” she asked.

“No!” said the dwarf.

“Then is it…Rumpelstiltskin?”

Rumpelstiltskin turned white, then red, and then he became so angry at being outwitted that he tore himself in two. Then the Queen, and the King and the baby lived happily ever after.

 **EG:** …I can see why the Chief might have disliked meeting Rumpelstiltskin.

 **JB:** Yes…he did threaten to take Molly away.

 **EG:** Yes…a most unpleasing little man. Still, the Queen should never have made that bargain.

 **JB:** So that’s the lesson you’re taking from it?

 **EG:** No. The lesson I’m taking from it is that if you get yourself in a bad situation, you should cheat your way out of it and keep the money.

 **JB:** I think it’s a caution against being greedy or boastful.

 **EG:** Why would it be that? Neither the miller nor the King are punished for their actions. All of the trouble falls on the girl who did nothing but make a bad bargain to get herself out of a bad situation.

 **JB:** It’s also been around for almost 5,000 years, so the original point probably got lost on the way.

 **EG:** It seems likely. Also, I would object to it ending with happily ever after. The Queen is still stuck in a castle with a very greedy King and a huge secret she’ll have to keep hidden for the rest of her life.

 **JB:** Well, how would you end it?

 **EG:** I’d end it with the Queen and Rumpelstiltskin conspiring to murder the King, take over the kingdom and use Rumpelstiltskin’s supernatural abilities to boost the local economy, while raising the young prince to be a good leader.

 **JB:** Well, I suppose that would be an improvement. I’ll see you next week, then.


	7. Donkeyskin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by cuddlykoala and system_requirement. We're dealing with both Donkeyskin and All-Kinds-of-Fur in this chapter, since they're essentially the same story.

**Julian Bashir’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**EG:** You know, I’m starting to think we should just give up and have dinner during these sessions. I see you’ve laid out quite a lot of cakes again.

 **JB:** It wouldn’t be the right environment. Besides, you like these cakes.

 **EG:** True, but they’re doing nothing for my waistline. Combined with the rather sedentary lifestyle I’ve been leading, I’ll be quite obese by the time we’re finished.

 **JB:** Well, then, perhaps as your doctor, I should start replicating vegetable platters for you. Or we should do these sessions in a holosuite where you can work out.

 **EG:** I fear that I wouldn’t be able to pay attention if we did that. As to the vegetables, I doubt they would set the right mood either.

 **JB:** Then stop complaining about what I replicate. It was either cake or soup, actually, because there are two different versions of this story, but I decided to go with the French one which involves cake.

 **EG:** Fine. And what gory tale do you have for me today?

 **JB:** It’s not gory at all…though you’ll probably still be offended. This one is called Donkeyskin.

 **EG:**...I don’t think that title translated very well. What on earth is a donkeyskin?

 **JB:** Well, if you just wait, I’ll explain it to you. Once upon a time, there was a King who was very powerful and much loved by his people. He had a wife who was the most wise and beautiful woman in the world, and a fair daughter. But most precious of all, he had a donkey that instead of dung, dropped gold bricks upon the floor.

 **EG:** A…what is a donkey, exactly?

 **JB:** It’s sort of like a horse, only smaller and with bigger ears and a tufted tale.

 **EG:** And it shit gold?

 **JB:** If you want to be crude about it, yes.

 **EG:** I think that was another failure on the part of the translators. It seems that your species had a fascination with anything that could produce gold by unnatural means. Tell me, did they have to feed it rocks?

 **JB:** I really couldn’t say. The point is, the King had this donkey that excreted gold, so he was very rich and powerful. One day, however, the Queen fell ill. The best doctors from all around the world were called in, but none could heal her. As she lay dying, the Queen asked the King to make her one final promise, that he would only remarry if he found a woman more wise and beautiful than the Queen. The King agreed, and the Queen died, happy to know that her husband would never remarry.

 **EG:** She had a very high opinion of herself, didn’t she?

 **JB:** I told you, she was the most wise and beautiful woman in the world.

 **EG:** A wise woman wouldn’t allow herself to grow jealous of her husband or forbid him to remarry, especially when he had no heir…or was this written after you had overthrown the patriarchy?

 **JB:** Well, you’re right about that, anyway. The King grieved for years, but life had to go on. Years passed, and the King’s advisors told him he must remarry and produce an heir, but the King refused because of his promise. None of the women the advisors brought before him were half as beautiful or nearly as wise as the Queen. The King despaired of ever finding someone who met those qualifications, until one day he looked across the table and realized that his daughter had grown to be even more beautiful than her mother. He remembered that his daughter advised him as assuredly as his councilors, and he realized she met every qualification his wife had set. So he asked his daughter to marry him.

 **EG:** Excuse me?! Your other stories have had quite a few horrors, but we’ve never delved into incest before!

 **JB:** I take it you consider that worse than the half-fish hybrids.

 **EG:** While there is no law against mating with a fish on Cardassia, there are certainly laws against incest!

 **JB:** I’d be concerned if there was a law against mating with a fish on a desert planet. Anyway, the princess was as horrified by the King’s proposal as you are, but she was also conflicted, because she knew she should obey her father. But being that she was so clever, she went to him and said, “Father, I shall accept your proposal, but you must first make me a dress the color of the sky.”

 **EG:** Well, that’s rather vague and arbitrary. Does she mean the night sky? The sky during a storm? The sky in the summer or at sunset?

 **JB:** She was vague on purpose, because she figured her father couldn’t order such a dress. But the King called the best tailors in the land and ordered them to make the dress in three days, or they would all die.

 **EG:** Ah, so we can add cruelty to tailors to his list of crimes. Even if she wasn’t his daughter, I wouldn’t want the princess to marry him.

 **JB:** As a matter of point, what would you make a dress the color of the sky look like?

 **EG:** Considering we’re in deep space and the only sky I see is dark with stars until the wormhole opens, I would make it out of black silk with rhinestones. Of course, if anyone actually ordered such a dress, I’d order them out of my shop.

 **JB:** Well, the King didn’t interpret the request as you did. Three days later, he presented the princess with a dress as pure a blue as any summer’s day. The princess was impressed, but then said, “Father, I will accept your proposal, but first you must make me a dress the color of the moon.”

 **EG:** Isn’t that a bit low-key? From what I understand, your Earth moon is a rather dull grey with lots of craters on it.

 **JB:** She meant the moon as it appears from Earth, which is more of a silver-white. The King ordered his best tailors to make the dress in three days, or they would die. They worked tirelessly and accomplished the task. The princess was delighted by the dress, but knew she still could not do as the King asked. “Father,” she said. “I will accept you, but first you must make me a dress the color of the sun.”

 **EG:** The color of the sun? You can’t even look at the sun without hurting your eyes!

 **JB:** That’s what she thought. But the King called his tailors and his jewelers and ordered a dress to be made from gold and rubies that would shine bright like the sun, to be made in three days or they would all die. They worked and worked, and finally presented the dress to the princess, who was absolutely dazzled by the dress. She was out of time, so she went to her father and said, “Father, I will marry you, but first I must have the skin of your donkey that excretes gold.” She thought, surely he wouldn’t kill his most precious treasure!

 **EG:** Clever girl.

 **JB:** Unfortunately, she had underestimated how determined the King was. He ordered the donkey slaughtered and skinned, and presented the skin to the princess. With little other choice, the princess pretended to give in to him and he announced they would be married on the morrow, in spite of the court’s astonishment.

 **EG:** So he’s given up the good will of his tailors, a donkey that excretes gold, and the love of his people to pursue his own daughter? Is this King quite mad?

 **JB:** Possibly. Some versions do say the death of his wife drove him to insanity. But the princess was more clever. That night, she packed the three dresses in her bag and put on the donkey skin as a disguise and then ran away from the castle. In the donkey skin, no one would recognize her, and no one would even think that such a beautiful girl would be hidden in something so frightful.

 **EG:** Very clever, though that must be an uncomfortable experience.

 **JB:** Anything was better than staying. The princess travelled far away from the castle to another kingdom. Everywhere she went, she had to beg for work, but no one wanted to hire her since she looked so monstrous. Finally, one day, a rich farmer took pity on her and hired her to work in the kitchen. She toiled away each day, cooking and cleaning and enduring rude comments from the other servants. She was given a tiny hovel at the edge of the land where no one would have to look at her outside the kitchen, and paid a pittance. But every Sunday, her day off, she would lock her door and remove the donkey skin. She washed herself and did her hair and put on one of the fabulous dresses. She didn’t go out, just enjoyed feeling like a princess again.

 **EG:** Well, what’s the point of having such dresses if you’re not going to show them off? A team of tailors worked very hard on those under threat of death! It’s an insult to just wear them in a tiny dirty house that’s probably not even big enough to move around in!

 **JB:** I suppose she feared that if she went out in them, someone might recognize her and drag her back to her father. As it happened, the farm was right next to an aviary that belonged to the King of that country, and the prince liked to go down there. Donkeyskin, as the princess was now called, watched him from a distance and fell in love with him, how handsome and kind he was, but she didn’t dare approach him. One day, the prince passed by the hovel on Sunday and happened to peep through the keyhole. Inside, he saw Donkeyskin, clean and beautiful, wearing the dress that shone like the sun. He was amazed at the girl’s beauty and modesty, and thought about entering, but decided against it.

 **EG:** A good thing, too. It’s bad enough he’s peeping at women through their keyholes without him going in uninvited.

 **JB:** Exactly. The prince went to the farmer and asked who lived in the hovel. “That’s Donkeyskin, one of my kitchen maids, the ugliest creature you will ever see,” the farmer answered. The prince didn’t believe him, but did not press the issue. Instead, he went home and fell into a deep melancholy. The Queen asked what was wrong, and the prince declared that he would only be happy if he could have a cake baked by Donkeyskin’s own hand.

 **EG:** Ah, now I see why you’ve provided cake this evening. Are you hoping that I’ll be happy if I get cake from you?

 **JB:** I didn’t bake these, you know.

 **EG:** Does that make a difference?

 **JB:** Yes, if you’ll let me finish. The Queen was hesitant, but as the prince grew more despondent, she went to the farmer and told him the request. The farmer agreed, and Donkeyskin agreed, but only if she was allowed to bake the cake in her quarters alone.

 **EG:** Did she intend to poison it?

 **JB:** Garak! I told you she was in love with the prince!

 **EG:** Being in love with someone doesn’t mean you don’t intend to kill them one day. Besides, she barely knew him!

 **JB:** Well, she didn’t. She went back to her hovel, and locked the door and took off the donkey skin and put on one of her dresses for the occasion. She used the finest ingredients she could lay her hands on, and as she mixed the batter, she dropped a ring from her finger into the bowl.

 **EG:** On purpose?

 **JB:** I like to think so. When the cake was taken to the prince, he ate the whole thing and almost missed the ring, but he found it. He was delighted to have proof that Donkeyskin was more than she appeared, but soon he again grew melancholy to the point of illness. The doctor examined him and determined that the prince was lovesick and the only remedy was marriage.

 **EG:** Once again with the idea that love and marriage are the same thing. You humans are very stuck on that point.

 **JB:** Is that not so on Cardassia?

 **EG:** To a certain extent, there is affection involved in marriage. But there are other considerations as well—social status, fertility, those sorts of things. On Cardassia, the idea of a prince marrying a servant would be considered ludicrous, no matter how much affection he felt for her.

 **JB:** Honestly, it was the same way on Earth. That’s why these fairy tales appealed to people—it gave the idea that if you love each other enough, those other factors don’t matter at all. In fact, until the 17 th century, love and marriage were considered incompatible.

 **EG:** Well, I wouldn’t go that far. If you’re going to be with someone the rest of your life, you should feel some fondness for one another.

 **JB:** Humans haven’t held that philosophy for centuries. Since we don’t rely on material wealth anymore, we only marry for love now. Anyway, the King and Queen decided the prince should marry, but the prince declared he would only marry the girl whose finger fit the ring.

 **EG:** Ah, much like the prince in Cinderella. Tell me, just how small were Donkeyskin’s hands?

 **JB:** Very small and slender. The King and Queen abided by the request, and a minister lined up every woman in the kingdom, from the highest princess to the lowest servant. Donkeyskin was at the very back of the line, for no one imagined that she could ever be Queen. But the hands of every other woman were too large, even as they used all sorts of methods to make the ring fit. Finally, the minister in charge reached Donkeyskin. He was astonished when she drew out a slender white hand from among the skin and slipped the ring onto her finger perfectly.

 **EG:** She must have had a child’s hands that no one else wore the same ring size.

 **JB:** I suppose she did. The minister planned to take her to the King at once, but she first begged to be allowed to change her clothes. The minister decided to indulge her, so Donkeyskin went to her hovel and took off the donkey skin and washed herself and put on one of her beautiful dresses. The minister was amazed by the transformation and took her to the palace at once. The King and Queen were delighted by her, the prince was overjoyed, and they married soon after.

 **EG:** Is that the end? That’s usually where these stories end.

 **JB:** Not quite. They invited royalty from all over the world, and among them was the princess’s father. When he saw her, he wept and begged her forgiveness. He had since found a woman who was her equal and married her. The princess forgave him, and the prince was delighted to be connected to such a powerful man, and they all lived happily ever after. That’s the end…your thoughts?

 **EG:** Let me see…well, first we learned that you shouldn’t make your husband promise you ridiculous things unless you want him to try and harm your children…

 **JB:** Well…

 **EG:** And we learned that you can’t judge a person by their appearance, again.

 **JB:** I suppose that’s a part of it…

 **EG:** And we learned that abusing tailors to get your way is a perfectly natural thing to do…

 **JB:** Garak!

 **EG:** And finally, we learned that arbitrary measurements will always find the correct woman for you to marry, even if you haven’t even had a ball and spoken to her…how’d I do?

 **JB:** …the moral Perrault wrote is, “it is better to undergo the greatest hardships rather than to fail in one's duty, that virtue may sometimes seem ill-fated but will always triumph in the end.”

 **EG:** Ah…not a terrible moral, if a bit obvious. Also untrue, since virtue had nothing to do with the princess marrying the prince. If anything, it should say “beauty may sometimes seem ill-fated but will always triumph in the end.”

 **JB:** I suppose you’re right…

 **EG:** You said there were two different version of this story. What’s the other one?

 **JB:** Oh, basically the same except instead of skinning a donkey that produces gold, the princess had her father make her a cloak from every type of animal he could find that she hid in so she was called All-Kinds-of-Fur, instead of just looking at a prince through a window she attended balls in her gowns, and instead of cakes she kept dropping jewelry into soup and the prince liked it so much he demanded to meet the cook.

 **EG:** Alas that you didn’t tell that one. At least that way the dresses were appreciated!

 **JB:** I thought it was a little too much like Cinderella and I wanted to give you some variety…how are the cakes?

 **EG:** They were excellent. I’m almost disappointed you didn’t hide a ring in one of them so I could horrify every man on the station by asking them to try it on.

 **JB:** Even if I did, it wouldn’t work. My hands aren’t nearly as delicate.

 **EG:** Oh, I don’t know…they’re certainly smaller than most men’s are.

 **JB:** I’ll take that as a compliment…but if you want a ring from me, you’re going to have to try harder than that.

 **EG:** Perhaps I’ll give you one then…you never know.

 **JB:** I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. Good night, Garak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: The Frog Prince.


	8. The Frog Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by AncalagonDrakka and nervousjazzhands.

**Elim Garak’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**JB:** I notice you haven’t given me a ring this week.

 **EG:** I’m waiting for the right moment, and as enjoyable as these evenings are, they don’t exactly create the right mood.

 **JB:** You don’t find these stories romantic enough?

 **EG:** So many of them revolve around death and kidnapping and other awful things that I can’t call any of them romantic, even if romance is a common theme. Besides, I believe I explained Cardassian romance to you.

 **JB:** So you did. Shall we get started, then?

 **EG:** Of course…tea? Biscuits?

 **JB:** Thank you. Tonight’s story is called The Frog Prince or Iron Henry.

 **EG:** An intriguing title, if a bit long.

 **JB:** It depends on the translation. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in a castle. She had everything she ever wanted and thus became very spoiled and selfish. She had hundreds of fancy dresses, many of which she only wore once, and she ate the finest delicacies and slept in the softest bed.

 **EG:** If I were a princess, I think I would do the same. That doesn’t make me spoiled, does it?

 **JB:** I don’t think anyone who knows you could call you spoiled…though you would make a very good princess.

 **EG:** Well, thank you, my dear...would that make you Prince Charming?

 **JB:** Maybe…anyway, the princess had everything she ever wanted, but her favorite possession was a simple golden ball. Every day, she would take the ball out by a pond, and sit by the water and toss her ball up and down to herself.

 **EG:** How very dull. If I were a princess, I think I’d have better things to do than toss a ball up and down all day.

 **JB:** She enjoyed it. One day, she went down and was tossing her ball, when suddenly she missed a catch and the ball fell into the pond and sunk down too deep for her to reach it. The princess began to cry, because she could hardly wade in in her dress, and she couldn’t swim deep enough to reach it anyway.

 **EG:** Why couldn’t she just go home and ask for a new one?

 **JB:** Because it wouldn’t be the same…if you lose something you love very much, no replacement will ever be the same.

 **EG:** Am I to assume that’s why you’ve hung on to the same teddy bear for thirty years?

 **JB:** Exactly…when my mother wanted to throw him away, she would have gotten me a new one, but it wouldn’t be Kukalaka. So the princess cried and cried, until a fat, ugly frog swam up to her. “Why are you crying, princess?” the frog asked.

 **EG:** Let me guess—she just accepted at face value that the frog could talk.

 **JB:** She was upset. She said, “My ball fell in the water and I can’t reach it!” and cried some more. The frog said, “I can get it for you, but you must do something for me in return.”

 **EG:** He’s not going to ask for her first-born is he?

 **JB:** No, no. He said, “If I fetch your ball, you must promise to take me back to the castle and let me live with you. You must promise to share your food, and your bed, and anything else I ask for, and to be my constant companion.”

 **EG:** Well, that’s a little co-dependent. Didn’t the frog have other frog friends?

 **JB:** Apparently not. The princess was a bit hesitant, since the frog was so hideous, but she finally agreed. The frog swam down to the bottom of the pond and dragged the golden ball to the surface. When it was returned to the bank, the princess snatched it up and ran back to the palace, ignoring the frog calling to her to wait for him.

 **EG:** Silly girl…breaking a promise to a fairy is never a good thing.

 **JB:** Have you been doing more reading behind my back?

 **EG:** Only on the legends of fairies in general…I think I have enough context now it doesn’t make a difference.

 **JB:** Maybe…anyway, the princess went home and forgot all about the frog. Indeed, the entire incident had entirely slipped her mind by dinner.

 **EG:** I see she has a very short attention span.

 **JB:** A bit, yes. But as the princess and her father the king sat down to dinner, there was a great knocking on the door, and a voice calling, “Princess, Princess, let me in!”

 **EG:** How was the frog knocking on the door?

 **JB:** I suppose he got one of the guards to do it for him. The princess got up and went to the door, but when she saw it was the frog, she slammed it again and returned to the table. “Who was that?” the King asked, and the princess, shrinking under her father’s glare, laid out the whole story. The King frowned at her. “A promise is a promise,” he said. “Go let the frog in and bring him here.”

 **EG:** I see the King is smarter than his daughter. At least he won’t have his child stolen by fairies…though good riddance if he did.

 **JB:** He was conscious of that, yes. So the princess went back to the door and opened it. She turned to lead the frog back to the dining room, but the frog called out and insisted she carry him. Shuddering with disgust, she reached down and picked him up and carried him to the dining room, where she dropped him on the floor.

 **EG:** Well, that’s a bit rude of her. He did her a favor and now she’s treating him poorly.

 **JB:** She normally didn’t deal with anyone who didn’t bathe twice a day…but yes, it was rude. “Pick me up and put me on your chair,” the frog demanded. The princess tried to ignore him, but her father gave her a severe look and she relented. She picked the frog up and set him up on the arm of her chair. “Move your plate closer so I can eat from it,” the frog demanded.

 **EG:** Do frogs normally eat human food?

 **JB:** They mostly eat insects, actually, but this one ate the same delicate breads and sweetmeats the princess did. Once they had both eaten, the frog said, “I am tired. Take me to your room so I may sleep.” The princess began to protest, but the King said, “A promise is a promise,” so she picked the frog up and carried him to her chamber. She dropped him on a chair and went to get ready for bed. When she came back, the frog said. “You must let me sleep in your bed!” The princess cried at the thought of having such an ugly and dirty frog in her bed, but she finally gave in and moved him so that he could sleep on her pillow.

 **EG:** I can’t say I disagree with her. I certainly wouldn’t let anything that had spent days in a swamp in my bed…not without giving it a good washing first, anyway.

 **JB:** I didn’t get the impression you let anyone in your bed.

 **EG:** Oh, I wouldn’t say that…incidentally, what were the frog’s designs in making these demands? Talking frog or not, it seems to me that he’d be happier out in the pond.

 **JB:** I’m getting there. Anyway, the princess awoke the next morning. The frog was awake as well, and demanded she spend the entire day reading to him and feeding him and basically doing whatever he wanted. Finally, the princess could stand his demands no longer. She picked the frog up and flung him against the wall.

 **EG:** I suppose she built up a good arm tossing a ball to herself every day. And honestly, you say she was rude and spoiled, but I don’t see anything in this story that doesn’t justify this. The frog did her a minor favor and has been holding it over her head ever since; I think I would have done the same.

 **JB:** Well…maybe. Anyway, when the frog hit the wall, he fell, but as he hit the ground, he turned into a handsome prince.

 **EG:** Of course he did. Handsome princes tend to turn up all over these stories.

 **JB:** They do, don’t they? The princess was astonished, but then the prince explained that a fairy had turned him into a frog out of spite, but the spell had been broken.

 **EG:** Because she threw him into a wall?

 **JB:** It’s a little muddled as to why that worked. Partly it was because she let an ugly frog into her home, but I don’t know why throwing him into a wall was what sealed the deal.

 **EG:** That is rather odd. Maybe the fairy wanted him to suffer physical pain.

 **JB:** Maybe. In more modern versions, the spell is broken when the princess kisses the frog, or he just turns back into a prince the next morning after spending the night in her bed. Anyway, the prince asked the princess to marry him and live in his kingdom, and she said yes.

 **EG:** I can see they’d be quite the pair. They both seem like deeply unpleasant people.

 **JB:** The prince wasn’t, really. At any rate, when he summoned his carriage and servants, one of them, known as Henry, was overjoyed to see him. You see, when the prince was turned into a frog, Henry’s heart had broken, so he mended it by binding it with iron rings, and when he saw the prince restored, his heart grew so much the bands broke.

 **EG:** Doesn’t seem like sound medical practice to me.

 **JB:** It is a bit strange and sort of shoved in at the end. So they returned to the prince’s kingdom, the prince and princess were married, and they all lived happily ever after.

 **EG:** Seems to me the prince would have been better off marrying Henry, who he could at least be sure held real affection for him, rather than a princess who felt obligated.

 **JB:** Same sex marriage was not acceptable practice in those days. Other than that, what do you think?

 **EG:** Oh, the lesson? Let me see…I suppose I’d say the moral of the story is that rude people deserve to be with each other.

 **JB:** Garak, if you’re not going to take this seriously…

 **EG:** I apologize, my dear. No, obviously the real lesson is don’t take your most precious possession near water if you can’t retrieve it yourself.

 **JB:** I suppose that’s one lesson…the one I learned is that you should keep your promises and repay your debts.

 **EG:** Well, I suppose that is sound advice, but there’s only so far that should go. Just because you’ve saved my life a few times doesn’t mean I feel obligated to take you to my bed.

 **JB:** No, but you do share meals with me.

 **EG:** That’s very true…and I suppose if you wanted into my bed, I wouldn’t turn you down…

 **JB:** Is that the comm? Sorry, Garak, better run. See you next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Thumbelina.


	9. Thumbelina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by AncalagonDrakka

**Julian Bashir’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**EG:** Good evening, Doctor. And what have you got for me this evening?

 **JB:** Well, the usual I suppose. Tea, cakes, and I did add some vegetables this time just in case you were still worried about your figure.

 **EG:** Are you worried about it?

 **JB:** I wasn’t, but then I remembered you lost a fight to Miles and figured you could stand to get in better shape.

 **EG:** I was drugged and he cheated. And what have we got for a story?

 **JB:** Back to Anderson tonight, I’m afraid. This one is called Thumbelina.

 **EG:** That sounds worse than Cinderella.

 **JB:** They should form a support group. Once upon a time, there was an older farm woman who lived alone. She was hardworking and fairly well-off, but desperately lonely. More than anything in the world, she wanted a child to call her own.

 **EG:** Naturally. I assume she had no husband.

 **JB:** No, and she was a bit past her childbearing years anyway. So the woman went to a witch she knew and explained her problem. The witch gave the woman a piece of barleycorn and told her to plant it in a flowerpot.

 **EG:** You won’t get much barley doing that. You need a full field for grain.

 **JB:** The woman knew that, but she trusted the witch and took the barleycorn home and planted it in a flowerpot as she was told. She watered it, and within a day, a lovely flower had grown up. It looked like a tulip, with closed petals. The old woman was confused, but she did say, “It is a lovely flower.”

 **EG:** How did she grow a tulip from barleycorn?

 **JB:** It’s magic, Garak!

 **EG:** There’s magic and then there’s silliness. Barley and tulips aren’t even close to being the same plant!

 **JB:** Well, it wouldn’t be magical if she grew barley in a flowerpot!

 **EG:** No, it would just be stupid.

 **JB:** ANYWAY, the old woman leaned over and kissed the top of the flower, upon which it opened, revealing a tiny girl inside, fully mature but only the size of the woman’s thumb. And thus, the woman named the girl Thumbelina.

 **EG:** Really? Thumbelina?

 **JB:** It’s the title, isn’t it?

 **EG:** You’re right; there should be a support group. “Fairy Tale Characters with Stupidly Descriptive Names.” I’m sure they could all use the help.

 **JB:** These are meant for children, you know.

 **EG:** Oh, I know, but it’s still a bit silly. Also, if I were the old woman, I’d feel rather ripped off that I got a fully grown daughter rather than an actual child to look after.

 **JB:** The old woman didn’t mind because Thumbelina was a very sweet-natured young woman. Her bed was in a walnut shell with rose petals for blankets and a down feather for a pillow. She sang very sweetly and her mother loved her deeply.

 **EG:** Of course, of course. Now what’s going to go wrong?

 **JB:** Well, one night as Thumbelina slept, an old toad woman happened to be passing by the window and glanced in to see Thumbelina in her walnut shell. The toad woman thought the girl looked charming and thought, “What a fine bride she would make for my son!”

 **EG:** Excuse me? I know that last week’s frog had human ideals, but he was an enchanted human! Are these toads enchanted humans?

 **JB:** No…

 **EG:** Then why would they have human social structures? And why would they want to marry a humanoid girl?

 **JB:** You’re the one who asked if mermaids came about from humans and fish mating! I’d think a humanoid girl and a toad would make more sense than that, especially when they’re the same size.

 **EG:** I will concede that point. Humans do have a long, proud history of interspecies relations.

 **JB:** I wouldn’t go that far. It usually just extends to other humanoids. Anyway, the toad snatched up the walnut shell and carried Thumbelina far away, to a large lake where she lived with her son. The toad’s son looked at Thumbelina and decided she did make a perfect bride.

 **EG:** I notice that neither of them has actually spoken to Thumbelina and obtained her consent.

 **JB:** No, they hadn’t. Thumbelina woke up, and when she saw the toads she was very frightened, for she was far from home and the toads were quite hideous. The mother toad explained that Thumbelina would marry her son, and they would live together far below under the mud. “But for now, we must go gather our friends and family,” the mother toad said. She took Thumbelina and placed her on a lilypad in the middle of the lake, where she couldn’t escape.

 **EG:** Did Thumbelina not protest?

 **JB:** She didn’t know how, she was only born yesterday.

 **EG:** That’s another thing—I know she was born fully mature but she cannot be in any state to give real consent!

 **JB:** The toads didn’t really care about that. So the toads left Thumbelina on the lilypad and swam off. The fish and birds nearby had overheard all this, and they all thought it was too sad and horrible for someone as beautiful as Thumbelina to spend her life under the mud. So the fish swam down and nibbled the lilypad loose and it floated away. As it went, a white butterfly came near, and Thumbelina fastened a rope between it and the lilypad so it could pull her down the river.

 **EG:** Well, at least there were people willing to help her! Though I find it offensive to think they wouldn’t have done so were Thumbelina not beautiful.

 **JB:** We’ve been over this—it’s just literary shorthand to denote good people.

 **EG:** So far, Thumbelina doesn’t seem to have much personality at all…though she is willing to abuse butterflies for her own purposes, so I’m not seeing her as very good.

 **JB:** The butterfly wanted to help her…

 **EG:** Because she was beautiful…why do all of these creatures subscribe to the human view of beauty, anyway? I can tell you, I know what human beauty standards are and I hardly agree with them.

 **JB:** As Thumbelina sailed down the river, though, she was spotted by a beetle, who thought she was very attractive. He flew down to her and heard her singing as she sailed, and her voice was so sweet that he decided she must come to the beetle ball and sing for him. So the beetle grabbed Thumbelina off the lilypad and flew her up into a tall tree, where all the other beetles were gathered.

 **EG:** This girl gets kidnapped a lot, doesn’t she?

 **JB:** A fair amount, I suppose.

 **EG:** Twice in twenty-four hours isn’t fair, it’s excessive.

 **JB:** A bit, yes. Thumbelina was frightened at being grabbed again, and sad that she hadn’t been able to free the butterfly. The beetle didn’t care, though. He sat Thumbelina beside him and fed her honey. The other beetles looked at her. “How ugly she is!” one said. “She has only two legs, and no feelers!” The other beetles agreed, and the one who had grabbed Thumbelina decided they were right.

 **EG:** See, that’s more realistic! Why should someone like Thumbelina look beautiful to other species? That’s rather self-centered and arrogant if you ask me!

 **JB:** So you don’t find humans attractive?

 **EG:** Not in the same ways you do, my dear.

 **JB:** I suppose that makes sense…anyway, the beetle took Thumbelina down and set her on a daisy, where Thumbelina cried because the beetles thought her ugly.

 **EG:** She’s rather sensitive, isn’t she? Did she find the beetles attractive?

 **JB:** I suppose not…

 **EG:** Than why should she care they didn’t think she was pretty?

 **JB:** She believed they were right, I suppose. Anyway, all through the summer Thumbelina lived on her own, eating berries and honey and living under a canopy she wove from grass. But soon the summer passed and the weather grew cold. The birds all flew away and Thumbelina was all alone in the world. Her clothes were torn, and the leaves were too dry to offer much protection.

Finally, one day, after struggling through a barren field, Thumbelina came to the door of a field mouse. She knocked and begged the field mouse for a bit of food, since she’d had nothing for days.

 **EG:** And I suppose the field mouse is going to find her so beautiful he can’t help but take her in?

 **JB:** Well, yes. “You poor dear,” the field mouse said. “Come inside! And if you keep the house clean and tell me stories, I will let you stay as long as you like and keep you fed.”

 **EG:** A reasonable arrangement. I assume that the animals have some sort of economy, and the field mouse has employment?

 **JB:** Not exactly, but the field mouse had stored plenty of food for the winter. Thumbelina agreed and was very happy with the arrangement. One day, the field mouse said, “My neighbor the mole visits once a week. He is very rich and educated and would make a fine husband for you. But he is blind, so you must sing for him, and tell him pretty stories.”

 **EG:** Now, really! Why is everyone so eager to get this girl married off? And to people she doesn’t even know!

 **JB:** I take it Cardassia doesn’t have arranged marriages, then.

 **EG:** Not of this sort. Parents may push for a match, but the parties involved usually know each other first and can say no.

 **JB:** Well, the mole came. He wore a very fine black velvet coat, and when Thumbelina sang for him, he was enthralled and fell in love with her. But he was cautious, since he didn’t want Thumbelina to be frightened by his advances.

 **EG:** Sensible. And other than being a mole, what was wrong with him that Thumbelina wouldn’t agree to the match?

 **JB:** How do you know she didn’t?

 **EG:** My dear, if she had instantly fallen in love with the mole, you’d have said so. So out with it—what did Thumbelina not like about the rich mole?

 **JB:** He spoke slightingly against the sun and flowers, since he had never seen them and the light hurt his eyes. If Thumbelina married him, she would live underground and not see them again, and Thumbelina loved the outdoors.

 **EG:** Ah, yes…I could see how that arrangement might be detrimental to her health.

 **JB:** Exactly. The mole had recently finished digging an underground passage between his house and the field mouse’s, and he invited the field mouse and Thumbelina to take a walk down it with him. They agreed and set off. “But you mustn’t be frightened,” the mole said. “There is a dead bird in the passage, who fell in while I was digging.”

 **EG:** That will be very unpleasant when it starts to rot. You’d think he’d have it removed.

 **JB:** It was too large for him to move. “Just as well,” the field mouse said. “The birds do nothing but flutter about and sing. They don’t work hard like we do, and then they just starve in the winter.” The mole agreed as they passed the bird, a swallow. Thumbelina’s heart broke, remembering how the birds had sung for her all summer. Finally, the mole escorted Thumbelina and the field mouse home. Thumbelina couldn’t stop thinking about the swallow, so she got up and took her quilt down to the passage, and placed it over the bird.

 **EG:** Why? If it was dead, why bother giving it a blanket she would need?

 **JB:** As it turned out, the swallow wasn’t dead, just numb from cold. When Thumbelina warmed him, he came back to life.

 **EG:** Ah, so acute hypothermia can be counteracted with a blanket.

 **JB:** To a certain extent. Thumbelina was frightened, because the bird was so much larger than her, but she soon took heart. Every night, she would go down and nurse the swallow back to health. The swallow was very grateful, and when the spring came, he said a very fond farewell to Thumbelina as she opened a hole in the ceiling to let him out. The swallow offered to take her with him, but she refused.

 **EG:** Why? Did she want to stay with the field mouse?

 **JB:** She didn’t want to seem ungrateful to the field mouse by running away. Besides, neither she nor the swallow knew the way back to her mother and it was safer to remain where she was. Thumbelina was very sorrowful, though, because she couldn’t go out in the warm sunshine.

 **EG:** Why not?

 **JB:** Because the field she and the mouse lived in had been planted with tall corn, so if Thumbelina went out she would be lost instantly.

 **EG:** Couldn’t the field mouse guide her?

 **JB:** The field mouse didn’t like the outdoors much more than the mole did. So Thumbelina stayed inside, lonely without the bird. One day, the field mouse said, “The mole has asked for your hand, and I have agreed. It is a fine match—he is rich, and you have nothing. Come, let us prepare your wedding clothes.”

 **EG:** Seriously, does Thumbelina have no agency of her own? Everything happens to her; other than helping the bird, she hasn’t done a thing for herself!

 **JB:** Women in Anderson’s time weren’t expected to have agency.

 **EG:** His mermaid did.

 **JB:** And look what happened to her. Thumbelina didn’t object, anyway. Her clothes were prepared, and a date was set. On the day of the wedding, Thumbelina begged to go outside one last time, to say goodbye to the sun and flowers. The corn had been cut, so the field mouse agreed. Thumbelina went outside. “Farewell, bright sun,” she said. “Farewell, flower. Give my best to the swallow when you see him.”

 **EG:** Could the flowers speak in this world?

 **JB:** It was symbolic.

 **EG:** Well, since everything else can talk, why not the flowers?

 **JB:** They just couldn’t. As Thumbelina stood by the flower, she heard a shrill tweet tweet and the swallow she had helped came flying down.

 **EG:** How convenient.

 **JB:** He was looking for her. Thumbelina was crying, and the swallow asked what the matter was. Thumbelina told him how she didn’t want to marry the ugly mole and live underground and never see the sun again. “I am flying to warmer countries,” the swallow said. “Climb on my back and tie your sash on my neck and I’ll take you with me.” Thumbelina agreed at once and climbed up.

 **EG:** But she didn’t agree before! Why is it suddenly all right now?

 **JB:** Before she wasn’t ten minutes away from being married to someone she didn’t love. The swallow flew far away from the field mouse and the mole, south to a warm country. They eventually came to a glade, surrounded by ancient marble. Up in the marble were many nests. “This is my home,” the swallow said. “But you cannot stay here—you wouldn’t be comfortable. Choose one of the flowers below and I’ll set you there.”

 **EG:** So he’ll just leave her on a flower? That can’t be very good shelter, even for someone as small as her!

 **JB:** It was adequate, since that country didn’t have harsh winters. Thumbelina chose one of the white flowers below, so the swallow took her down and placed her upon it. To Thumbelina’s surprise, there was a little man, the same size as her, in the middle of the flower! He was very pale and handsome and dressed all in white, except for the golden crown on his head, and he had golden wings on his back. He was frightened of the swallow, but when he saw Thumbelina, he was delighted, and at once took the crown from his head and put it on hers.

 **EG:** Ah…another person who instantly fell in love with her.

 **JB:** Quite so. Every flower held a man and a woman, fairies who took care of the glade. The man in this flower, however, had no wife, so he asked Thumbelina her name and if she would be his.

 **EG:** At least he asked for her name first...and for her consent in the marriage, which is important.

 **JB:** Yes, Thumbelina thought so as well. The fairy king seemed like a much better husband than the toad or the mole, and his home in the flowers was attractive to Thumbelina, so she told him her name and that she would be happy to accept him. “You are so beautiful,” the king said. “And Thumbelina is such an ugly name. We shall call you Maia.”

 **EG:** Well, that’s very rude of him! Her mother gave her that name, and while it is hideous, he doesn’t have the right to just change it! I didn’t give you a Cardassian name just because the name Julian is difficult for me to pronounce!

 **JB:** Yes, thank you for that. Anyway, they were married and presented with many lovely gifts from the other fairies. But the best gift of all was a pair of wings for Maia, which she wore proudly. The swallow was sad, for he was fond of her, but he flew away to sing the story far and wide. The end…what do you think?

 **EG:** …is this your way of letting me down gently?

 **JB:** What?

 **EG:** Well, the obvious moral is that people should only be with their own kind, and that a match to someone different will always be ill-suited.

 **JB:** What’s that got to do with me?

 **EG:** You’re human, I’m Cardassian…I was afraid I’d been a bit too overt at our last meeting and…

 **JB:** No, no! It’s got nothing to do with that! Tell the truth, I have a list I’ve been following and your comments don’t change it.

 **EG:** Ah…so what is the moral of this story?

 **JB:** I admit, it’s another trick question…Anderson didn’t write a moral for it, which he was roundly criticized for when it was first published. Though the one you came up with is a common interpretation of the story.

 **EG:** You need to stop giving me these trick questions, my dear. It defeats the purpose of these evenings.

 **JB:** Not at all. It’s instructive to see what morals you subscribe where there are none.

 **EG:** I see…and what happened to Thumbelina’s mother?

 **JB:** It…doesn’t say what happened to anyone else, actually.

 **EG:** It seems to me that Mr. Anderson was not a very good writer. He couldn’t wrap up any of his stories very well.

 **JB:** He focused on his main characters…use your imagination for the rest.

 **EG:** Fine…Thumbelina’s mother died of heartbreak, since that’s a thing that happens in these stories, the toad married one of his own kind, and the mole was so disappointed by Thumbelina’s flight that he declared war on the field mouse, which continues to this day.

 **JB:** …well, that’s a bit macabre.

 **EG:** Oh, I’m sorry that I got depressing in a story about a woman being forced to marry people against her will.

 **JB:** I see your point…So, um…about what you said before…

 **EG:** About you letting me down?

 **JB:** Well…Let’s have dinner.

 **EG:** Yes…let’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: 1,001 Nights


	10. One Thousand and One Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only the frame story concerning Scheherazade. Other stories from the collection will be in later chapters throughout the fic.

**Julian Bashir’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**EG:** Thank you for dinner.

 **JB:** Of course. Perhaps we should make it a regular occurrence.

 **EG:** Dinner, followed by an evening of you telling me terrible stories of Earth’s obsession with sin and death? What could be better?

 **JB:** I can think of a few things, but let’s start with stories. It occurred to me that everything I’ve shared with you so far has come from a very specific region of Earth, Western Europe, and thus reflects only one of Earth’s myriad ancient cultures, so I thought we’d get away from that. Tonight’s story is called 1,001 Nights, and it comes from a region known as the Middle East.

 **EG:** That’s where your ancestors came from, isn’t it?

 **JB:** For the most part, yes. Once upon a time, there was a great king, or Shah. He was very wise and his people loved him, but he was yet unmarried. One night, he and his brother were out walking when the Shah saw a beautiful woman. “Would she not make a fine queen?” the Shah asked.

 **EG:** Did the Shah know this lady?

 **JB:** No.

 **EG:** So how did he know if she had any political savvy?

 **JB:** He didn’t, but a wife wasn’t expected to help with decision-making, just to look pretty.

 **EG:** It seems your western and eastern ancestors had that in common.

 **JB:** And yet they were constantly at war with each other over religion. Anyway, the Shah’s brother said, “She might, but do not trust her. I know more of women than you do, brother, for I already have a wife. My wife is beautiful, but she has smiles for every man but me.” The Shah thought on this all the next day.

 **EG:** And concluded that while his sister-in-law’s actions were shameful, it really should have no effect on his decision to marry and produce an heir?

 **JB:** Unfortunately, no. You see, the next day he and his brother were walking along the beach when they came across a very beautiful woman, who smiled at them very sweetly.

 **EG:** She wasn’t a mermaid, was she?

 **JB:** No, no. This pre-dates Andersen by several hundred years. As the Shah approached the woman, there was a great swirl of waves, and a Djinn came out of the sea, large and terrible.

 **EG:** A…I don’t think that word translated. A Djinn?

 **JB:** Yes…they’re a sort of spirit who have magical powers, either to influence humans or grant wishes. The Djinn glared at the brothers and the woman and said, “Hear me and learn from my troubles. This woman was to be my bride, and to prevent her from being unfaithful, I locked her in a trunk, and locked that trunk in another trunk, in all seven trunks, which I then cast to the bottom of the sea where no man could look upon her. But she escaped, and now flirts with every man she finds upon the beach.”

 **EG:** I can’t blame her. If I had a lover who locked me away out of jealousy, I’d want to escape and find another one as quickly as possible.

 **JB:** I see your point. The Djinn finished, saying, “If I, a Djinn with untold power, cannot keep a woman faithful to me, what hope do you mere mortals have?” With that, he grabbed the girl and they vanished back into the sea.

 **EG:** Mere mortals could keep women faithful to them by trusting them and not treating them poorly.

 **JB:** Unfortunately, not treating women poorly was not the modus operandi at the time. The Shah went home, shaken by the encounter. The next day, he called his Royal Vizier to him and ordered that the Vizier find him a bride that very day. The Vizier did so. The Shah married the woman, and the next morning, ordered her execution before she had the opportunity to be unfaithful to him.

 **EG:** Well, that’s a little extreme. Had the girl done anything to make the Shah think she would be unfaithful?

 **JB:** No. The Shah had come to the conclusion that all women were unfaithful. As soon as the first wife was executed, he ordered his Vizier to find him another. The next day, he ordered his second bride executed as well. The pattern continued for three years. Each day, the Shah would order his wife executed, and marry a new one the same day.

 **EG:** Three years? Over 1,000 women?

 **JB:** Yes. He intended to punish all of womankind. There wasn’t a family in the kingdom or many of the surrounding kingdoms untouched by the tragedy. The Shah’s people began to hate him. Mothers took their daughters and fled to far-off lands to prevent them from being chosen as a bride.

 **EG:** His kingdom is going to suffer a major population decrease if he keeps this up. Even if all women are unfaithful and deserve to be punished, you need them to produce children! I’m beginning to think the Shah’s brother was conspiring against him, intending to start a violent revolution and take the throne in the chaos.

 **JB:** Not everyone has an ulterior motive, Garak. At last the day came when the Vizier could find no more women of marriageable age in the kingdom, and he feared for his own life if he failed to produce a bride for the Shah. In despair, he went home to his two beautiful daughters. The eldest of them, Scheherazade, was a very wise and clever woman, having read every story and poem and history available. When she saw her father’s grief, she asked what concerned him. He told her all of his troubles, and Scheherazade offered to be the Shah’s next bride.

 **EG:** I assume she had a clever plan to murder the Shah in his sleep and take his throne?

 **JB:** Not exactly. The Vizier knew his daughter was wise, but he believed her request was foolish. He went to the Shah and confessed there were no more women to be brought to him, but the Shah said, “None but your daughters. Bring them to be my brides or I will have your head.”

 **EG:** I assume the Vizier can’t just flee the country like everyone else did.

 **JB:** Hardly. With little choice in the matter, the Vizier brought Scheherazade to the Shah. The Shah was pleased with her but saw that she was sad. He asked her what was the matter.

 **EG:** The Shah sounds like he’s quite lost his wits. After murdering every woman in the kingdom, what does he think the matter is?

 **JB:** Scheherazade said that she missed her sister and begged for her to be allowed to come and sleep with them that night. The Shah took pity on her and agreed.

 **EG:** Well, that’s certainly unusual. Tell me, did women typically take their sisters to their wedding beds in this culture?

 **JB:** Not usually, no…well, there is a long history of polygamy and sister-wives in many cultures, but that’s a different matter entirely. At any rate, that’s not what was going on. Scheherazade’s sister came and slept on a couch at the foot of the bed. Late that night, her sister woke up and spoke as she’d been ordered. “Scheherazade,” she said. “I cannot sleep. Would you tell me one of your pretty stories?”

“I cannot sleep either,” Scheherazade said. “If the Shah permits, I will tell a story.” The Shah, curious, granted permission, so Scheherazade began a story, one that held the Shah spellbound. But about halfway in, Scheherazade said, “I am too tired to continue,” and went off to sleep.

 **EG:** That’s rather rude of her. I’d be quite put-out if you made a habit of falling asleep halfway through these stories.

 **JB:** The Shah felt as you did, because the story was just getting to a good part. Intrigued, he did not order Scheherazade’s execution the next morning. That night, when they retired to bed, he commanded her to finish the story. Scheherazade happily obeyed, and when she had finished that story, she began another, even more exciting one. But much like the night before, about halfway through, she declared she was too tired to continue and went to sleep.

 **EG:** Ah…clever girl, buying time. And while she keeps the Shah distracted and married, the other women can return to the kingdom and rise up in revenge?

 **JB:** No. She simply continued the pattern night after night, for 1,0001 nights. Eventually, Scheherazade bore the Shah three healthy sons, and the Shah began to see how wise and faithful she was and fell in love with her. The Shah saw that he had been wrong about women, the people returned to the land, and Scheherazade remained his wise and beautiful queen ever after.

 **EG:** Is that it? No resolution for the brother and the Djinn?

 **JB:** Not really…this story is really just a frame story for a bunch of other fairy tales from the region. I would have told you the full text, but it’s rather complex and a lot of it gets lost in translation. There are stories within the stories and poetry and even some erotica…anyway, your thoughts on a moral?

 **EG:** Don’t treat women like garbage and they’ll generally be faithful to you?

 **JB:** I suppose…it’s a bit of a trick question. Since this is a frame story, all the other stories within had different morals.

 **EG:** Why do you keep giving me these trick questions, my dear?

 **JB:** Well, I wanted to tell you Scheherazade’s story because I wanted to tell you a few of the stories from the 1,001 Nights.

 **EG:** I see…and tell me, do you intend to continue telling me stories for 1,001 nights in the hopes that I won’t kill you?

 **JB:** Hardly. I don’t think I know that many stories…and I don’t think you really intend to kill me.

 **EG:** Perhaps I don’t…but not because of your stories. After all, you always bring them to a satisfying conclusion.

 **JB:** Well, that’s a comfort. I’ll see you tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp (Part One)


	11. Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by EverLurk.
> 
> I had to split this story into two parts simply because it is too long for a single chapter, even with Julian cutting out most of the descriptions.

**Elim Garak’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**EG:** Is there anything specific you want tonight?

 **JB:** Jasmine tea if you can get it. It goes with the story.

 **EG:** I see…I don’t think I have that in my replicator.

 **JB:** Just the redleaf, then.

 **EG:** And what is the story tonight?

 **JB:** Following up from last time, this is one of the thousand and one stories of Scheherazade…well, not originally, but it’s often included in the same volume and it’s the one most Westerners are familiar with. This is called “Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp.”

 **EG:** I am, as ever, intrigued.

 **JB:** Once upon a time, there was a boy named Aladdin, the son of a tailor.

 **EG:** I like him already.

 **JB:** I doubt you will for long. The tailor was hard-working, but very poor. His trade was barely sufficient to feed his wife and son. Furthermore, Aladdin was an idle boy, preferring to roam the streets causing trouble with his friends than to apply himself to learning his father’s trade.

 **EG:** His parents ought to be ashamed. If a child hasn’t learned a trade, clearly they haven’t instilled good values into him.

 **JB:** I take it children don’t have much time for idleness on Cardassia.

 **EG:** Not at all. We learn our business from an early age, and any laziness is very quickly corrected.

 **JB:** Well, Aladdin’s father was saddened by Aladdin’s idleness. Very soon, the tailor grew sick and died of despair. His wife and son were left destitute, and Aladdin, without a father to restrain him, gave himself more and more to his wicked ways.

 **EG:** Did his mother do nothing?

 **JB:** What could she do? She was struggling to put food on the table and didn’t have time to force her son to be good. Anyway, this went on until Aladdin was fifteen. One day, as he was out getting into trouble, he was observed by a sorcerer from a distant land. The sorcerer saw something in Aladdin that he liked and approached him.

 **EG:** Ah, so now Aladdin will get mixed up in magic. As if he hasn’t already disgraced himself enough!

 **JB:** I thought you didn’t believe in magic.

 **EG:** Well, I didn’t…though I did witness a thousand ships vanishing in the wink of an eye because Captain Sisko asked them to. Also, magic is real in these stories, and the people who get involved with it rarely turn out well.

 **JB:** Fair enough. The sorcerer asked around and learned about Aladdin’s family. Finally, he approached the boy. “Are you the son of Mustapha the tailor?” the sorcerer asked.

“Yes,” Aladdin said. “Though he has been dead for many years.”

The sorcerer threw his arms about Aladdin’s neck and kissed him several times. “I am your father’s brother,” the sorcerer said. “I knew you at once.” He gave Aladdin a handful of coins, and bade him pass them on to his mother. “I will visit tomorrow,” the sorcerer said. “For I wish to see where my brother lived his last days.”

 **EG:** I assume the sorcerer has some nefarious plan that involves the boy?

 **JB:** I’m getting there! Aladdin went home and gave the money to his mother, and told him his father’s brother would visit the next evening. His mother was confused, since she didn’t think Mustapha had a brother, but she was grateful for the money.

 **EG:** A surefire way to get herself and her son killed. Why, I remember a time on Cardassia when a man visited a home under the pretext of being from the Finance Ministry…but you don’t need to know about that.

 **JB:** I’ll just assume it ends with that man, who definitely isn’t you, murdering someone who was an enemy of the state.

 **EG:** I must be losing my edge if I’m getting that predictable. Soon you’ll stop liking me.

 **JB:** I don’t think that could ever happen. Anyway, the next day Aladdin again met with the sorcerer, who gave Aladdin more money so that his mother could buy dinner for them, and asked Aladdin to show him the way to his house. Aladdin did so, and passed the money along to his mother. She went out and laid upon the best food she could and borrowed dishes from her neighbors to present a good table.

 **EG:** Quite right. One should always present the best to their guests.

 **JB:** Even if you expect them to kill you?

 **EG:** Especially then. You wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on your assassin, would you?

 **JB:** I would think it’s the assassin who doesn’t want to make a bad impression on me.

 **EG:** That is true…maybe I should write a book about etiquette for assassinations.

 **JB:** Anyway…the magician arrived that night, bearing many different fruits for dessert. He looked around the house, which was very poor, and greeted Aladdin’s mother warmly. “Please,” he said. “May I see where my brother used to sit?” She showed him Mustapha’s place on the sofa and the magician fell to his knees and kissed the place several times.

 **EG:** That sounds rather unsanitary.

 **JB:** Yes, it didn’t make much sense to me, either. The magician began to cry. “Alas, that I was away for so long and came back too late to see my brother again!” The widow, much touched, offered the magician her husband’s seat. “No,” he said. “But I will sit opposite, and see the place where my dear brother spent his last days.”

 **EG:** This would all be very touching if the magician wasn’t lying.

 **JB:** Is this the sort of thing you’d do for a dead relative on Cardassia?

 **EG:** The details are a bit different, but we do mourn our relatives just as deeply…well…you saw how I was when I lost my father.

 **JB:** Yes…I’m sorry…

 **EG:** I would suggest you omit this portion of the conversation from your report.

 **JB:** All right…the magician took his desired seat and said to the widow, “My dear sister, do not be surprised that we have not met before. I have been away from this country for many years, travelling to many lands before taking up a residence far away in Africa. I’ve lived there some forty years, but as all men want, I desired to return home. Alas that I was too late to greet my brother, but praise be to Allah that he has a son who so resembles him!”

 **EG:** Again, I would be sympathetic if it was the truth.

 **JB:** Have you changed your tune about lying, then?

 **EG:** Not at all; I’m sure the magician has a good reason to tell such a story. But if you’re going to lie about your feelings, you’re better off pretending you have none at all.

 **JB:** Garak, I feel certain you’ve pretended to mourn for people and things you don’t have any feelings for before.

 **EG:** Not to this extent…at any rate, I’ve never lied about missing Cardassia.

 **JB:** That is true. The magician asked Aladdin what his business was. Aladdin looked down, for once ashamed of his idleness, and his mother said, “Aladdin has no business. My husband tried to teach him his trade, but he did not learn and spends his days in idleness. And if you cannot shame him into being an honest man, I shall have to turn him out!”

 **EG:** Quite right. I would have done so much sooner.

 **JB:** Garak, you can’t mean…

 **EG:** No one could ever say I was idle, my dear. Whatever differences my father and I had, that was not one of them.

 **JB:** Too true. The magician sighed and said, “This is not well, nephew. Perhaps your father’s trade was not for you, but I will help you find another. I have been many years a merchant and I know many men who would be happy to sell me goods; I will set you up with a shop, and furnish you with goods. You can sell them, and earn your money honestly.”

 **EG:** So far, this magician seems rather generous. You can’t tell me the moral of this story is not to lie since he seems to be doing it to lift a poor woman and her worthless son out of poverty.

 **JB:** Aladdin and his mother were overwhelmed with gratitude. The next day, the magician took Aladdin out, and bought him new clothes, telling him that if he was going to join the merchant class, he should familiarize himself with his neighbor’s shops and begin building relationships with them. The merchant took Aladdin to all the finest shops and mosques and even to the Sultan’s palace, introducing Aladdin to many important people whom the magician had become acquainted with since arriving. That night, they went back to Aladdin’s mother, who was overjoyed to see her son so well-dressed and happy.

The next day, the magician took Aladdin out again, this time to some gardens, then beyond. They stopped to rest often, but soon they reached a valley between two mountains, which was where the magician wanted to be. “Come, nephew,” he said. “Here I shall show you things beyond your wildest imaginings.”

 **EG:** Is he taking him to a brothel?

 **JB:** Garak! You made me choke!

 **EG:** I’m sorry my dear, the opening was too good to pass up.

 **JB:** The magician had Aladdin gather dry sticks and light a fire. He threw on incense and muttered several magical words Aladdin did not understand. Soon, the earth opened, revealing a stone with a brass ring attached to it. Aladdin was frightened and turned to run, but the magician caught him and clipped him around the ear.

 **EG:** Ah, here’s the violence I expect!

 **JB:** The magician apologized for it. “All that I ask is that you obey me,” he said. “For you see, beneath this rock is a treasure that will make you the richest man in the country. It is destined to be yours, for you are the only one who can lift the rock or enter the cave. But if you do not wish dire consequences for us both, you will do as I say.”

 **EG:** And now I see why he was so generous! Let me guess—he wanted a portion of the treasure for his magic or something.

 **JB:** In a manner of speaking. The magician bade Aladdin to lift the stone. “But uncle, it is heavy,” Aladdin said. “You must help me.” “No,” the magician said. “If I help, we will get nowhere. You’ll find you can lift it.” Aladdin grasped the ring and pulled and to his surprise, the stone lifted easily, revealing a set of stairs going down. “Now listen carefully,” the magician said. “You will descend down into a great palace. You must tread carefully, for if you touch the walls, even brush them with your clothes, you will die. You will go to the third hall, where there is a door that opens into a garden. In the garden is a terrace, where you will find a lamp. Take out the wick and pour out the liquor, then put it in your belt and bring it to me.” The magician took a ring from his finger and gave it to Aladdin. “This is a talisman that will protect you from evil so long as you obey. Go, and we shall both be rich the rest of our lives.”

 **EG:** That’s a rather strange thing to go to all this trouble for, a lamp.

 **JB:** Aladdin thought so as well, but he put on the ring and went down. The palace was just as he’d been told, and he obeyed his uncle and went to the garden. He took the lamp as instructed and tucked it away, but as he turned back, he noticed that the trees, instead of being laden with fruit, instead had jewels on them. Aladdin, remembering his uncle’s promise of treasure, gathered as many as he could and tucked them in his purses and into his clothes before making his way back to the entrance. “Help me up, Uncle,” Aladdin called.

“First, give me the lamp,” the magician said. “For it will only trouble you.”

Encumbered as he was with jewels, Aladdin refused until the magician helped him out. Finally, the magician grew angry, threw more incense on the fire and said the magic words that put the stone back in place, trapping Aladdin inside.

 **EG:** Couldn’t he push the stone out again?

 **JB:** No, because it was sealed by magic.

 **EG:** All right, out with it. Why did the magician want the lamp?

 **JB:** It was a powerful magical artifact, but the magician could only take possession of it if it was freely given to him as a gift. He had traveled a long way to get it, and he had hoped that a mixture of bribery and familial duty would oblige Aladdin to give it to him, but that hadn’t worked.

 **EG:** He should have just helped Aladdin out. Now he has no lamp and no one else to fetch it.

 **JB:** He was rather ill-tempered. Anyway, the magician traveled back to his home, avoiding the village so no one would ask questions about Aladdin. Aladdin, left alone in the dark, saw that the man was not his uncle. He tried to get back into the palace, but the door was locked against him. Cold and afraid, Aladdin began to pray, rubbing his hands together. As he did so, he rubbed the ring the magician had given him. To his shock, a djinn emerged from the ring. “What is your desire?” the djinn asked. “For I am bound to serve he who wears that ring.”

 **EG:** So why did the magician give it to Aladdin?

 **JB:** He thought that he’d get the lamp, which was more valuable than the ring.

 **EG:** This magician is clearly not very clever.

 **JB:** No…Aladdin said, “Get me out of this cave!” and immediately, he found himself aboveground where the magician had left him. Aladdin gave thanks to God and returned home. It was a long journey, and by the time he reached his mother’s door, he was faint from hunger. His mother was glad to see him, because she had been worried, and she cooked what food she had for him. Aladdin ate while he told his mother his story, and they both roundly cursed the magician before they retired to bed.

The next morning, Aladdin awoke and asked his mother for breakfast. “Ah, I have none!” she said. “Everything I had, you ate last night.” Aladdin, hungry and tired, decided he would sell the lamp the magician had him fetch, thinking it would get them enough to live on for a while.

 **EG:** He has a ring that can summon a djinn. Why doesn’t he just use it and ask the djinn for food?

 **JB:** That djinn wasn’t very powerful. Either that or Aladdin didn’t want to frighten his mother with it. Anyway, his mother said that the lamp would fetch more if it were clean, so she took it and a cloth and rubbed it. But as she rubbed, another djinn sprang out, larger and more powerful than the one in the ring. “I am the slave of whoever holds the lamp,” the djinn said. “What do you will of me?”

 **EG:** Were these djinns usually bound to magical objects?

 **JB:** Much of the time. They had a lot more power than the average fairy so containing them was the only way to make sure they didn’t destroy the place. Aladdin’s mother was so frightened, she fainted dead away, but since Aladdin had already seen the djinn of the ring, he snatched the lamp up at once and said, “I am hungry. Bring me food.”

 **EG:** Well, that’s rather rude. Magically bound slave or not, Aladdin could say please.

 **JB:** You don’t like Aladdin much, do you?

 **EG:** So far the only thing to recommend him is that he could go into a cave. Otherwise, he’s exactly the sort of character who would have already been executed in a Cardassian novel to prove a point.

 **JB:** Oh, just you wait. The djinn vanished, and an instant later reappeared with a goodly feast and several silver dishes.

 **EG:** That was generous of him, since Aladdin had only asked for food. Were I the djinn, I’d have brought back a crust of bread and thrown it at him!

 **JB:** And if you had, Aladdin probably would have just kept asking for more until you did what he wanted. This way the djinn saved time. He laid the table, bowed, and vanished back into the lamp, all before Aladdin’s mother had awoken. Aladdin revived her and she was shocked at the meal before them. There was enough for all their meals that day and the next. At length, Aladdin explained the two djinns to his mother. She wanted him to get rid of the ring and the lamp, since she believe djinns were evil spirits and that no good could come of associating with them.

 **EG:** Well, that’s rather short-sighted of her. Since she draws no income and has little food, why would she get rid of a ready and reliable source? And she didn’t seem to have any problem in eating the food the djinn brought.

 **JB:** That was Aladdin’s thinking, too. He pointed out that the magician had gone to great lengths to get the lamp, which meant it was worth more than mere gold and silver, and that they would be hard-pressed to find so much good food on their own. His mother finally agreed to let him keep it, so long as she didn’t have to see it or deal with the djinn. The ring, Aladdin kept on his finger, just in case.

 **EG:** I suppose no one could accuse the boy of being dim-witted. Also, what happened to all the jewels he took from the palace?

 **JB:** He didn’t really know their worth, so he didn’t have the means to spend them; and even if he did, he wanted to save them for something really big. The next day, Aladdin and his mother had finished all the food the djinn had brought. Aladdin didn’t want to go hungry again, so he took one of the silver platters and sold it to a disreputable merchant, who gave Aladdin a mere tenth of what it was worth. Never the less, Aladdin was glad and took the money to lay on good food for him and his mother. This went on for a while—whenever they ran out of food or money, Aladdin would sell one of the dishes. When he ran out of dishes, he once again summoned the djinn and asked for more food, which the djinn provided as before.

After a while, one of the more honest merchants noticed Aladdin always meeting with the dishonest one, and asked Aladdin what he was selling. When Aladdin showed him the silver dishes, the honest merchant weighed it and gave Aladdin its true value…this is a rather dull part of the story and I’m summarizing it as best as I can.

 **EG:** Thank you for your consideration, my dear, I had wondered. These Eastern writers were much more detailed than their Western counterparts, weren’t they?

 **JB:** Actually, there’s debate about whether this story was written by an Eastern writer; it was added to the Thousand and One Nights when it was translated for Westerners, and while the translator, Antoine Galland, swears he heard the story from Persian travelers, a lot of scholars think he made the whole thing up himself.

 **EG:** Well, if he did, I already like him better than Mr. Anderson or Perrault. He at least knows how to weave a narrative, even if his characters don’t always make sense.

 **JB:** Well, I don’t disagree with you. Anyway, as Aladdin was now getting quite a good income, he started talking with the well-to-do traders the magician had introduced him to and learned what the jewels from the cave were worth, though he didn’t mention them to anyone, not even his mother.

 **EG:** Saving them for something big.

 **JB:** Just so. He and his mother were still living frugally, even though they had an interminable source of income, and he had been poor too long to want to spend everything he had at once.

 **EG:** Sensible, I suppose. And since he has such a poor reputation, I doubt he could sell such jewels without drawing suspicion.

 **JB:** That might have also been a consideration, yes. One day, as Aladdin was out doing his business, the castle guard came down and ordered everyone to close their shops, go home and shutter their windows because the Princess Jasmine would be visiting the baths and no one was permitted to look on her.

 **EG:** Why?

 **JB:** It was a cultural norm at that time for women to veil their faces in public, especially royal women. Aladdin, however, was determined to catch a glimpse of her, so he slipped into the baths and hid behind the door.

 **EG:** I hope he only wants to see her face and not watch her actually bathe!

 **JB:** Honestly, in that culture, either one was just as bad. Aladdin had just concealed himself when the princess came in, with a whole host of servants to attend on her. It wasn’t long after she entered that she removed her veil, revealing the most beautiful face Aladdin had ever seen. He looked upon her for a few minutes before he slipped out and returned home to his mother.

 **EG:** I would call for him to be punished, but based on the other stories you’ve told, I feel sure he’s not only going to get away with it, he’ll get to marry the princess.

 **JB:** Garak! Would you kindly not ruin the story?

 **EG:** Oh, I’m sorry, is there a fairy tale where the hero behaves badly towards a woman and doesn’t get to marry her in the end?

 **JB:** …I’ll get back to you on that. Anyway, Aladdin returned home in a deep melancholy, for he was now very deeply in love with the princess…don’t say it…

 **EG:** Fine, but I shall think it very loudly.

 **JB:** You caught one glimpse of my face and came over to put your hands on my shoulders. I don’t think you have room to judge.

 **EG:** My dear, attraction doesn’t mean love. I was attracted to you at a look; I didn’t fall in love with you until you told Dukat off at that custody hearing.

 **JB:** Either way, Aladdin was in love with the princess, and was melancholic, because as we learned, love makes people depressed for some reason. His mother noticed, and he told her the whole story, and declared his intention to ask the sultan for her hand. His mother laughed at him, saying that it would be foolish.

 **EG:** Oh, she laughs at the idea of marrying the princess but doesn’t scold her son for sneaking in on her?

 **JB:** I suppose she’s just decided to pick her battles at this point. But Aladdin reminded her that he had two powerful djinns to help him, and then he revealed the jewels he had brought back from the cave. “Fetch your large porcelain bowl,” he said. “And we will arrange these jewels in it; they are the finest in the land and are bound to catch the sultan’s attention.” She did so, and when they were finished, the display was positively dazzling. The next day, his mother woke early, wrapped the bowl in two fine napkins, and carried it to the palace.

 **EG:** A strong, burly woman? Or are the jewels unusually light?

 **JB:** I suppose she built up her arm strength continuously facepalming at Aladdin’s actions. She took the bowl to the palace, and got into the throne room with the other petitioners. She elbowed her way to the front and stood directly in the sultan’s sight, and listened to him call petitioners.

 **EG:** Were they all asking for the hand of the princess?

 **JB:** No, they were asking about other disputes…land and such things. Anyway, Aladdin’s mother stood there until the sultan had retired, and then went home. She told Aladdin that while she did not speak to the sultan, she was certain he saw her. She returned the next day, and the next, every day for a week, and made sure to stand right in front of the sultan, even though he did not call her.

 **EG:** Why didn’t he? If she was always there, surely he would have to speak to her eventually.

 **JB:** I suppose the other people had more urgent business than she did. She was still dressed in her ordinary clothes, not the rich fabrics of the palace, so the sultan didn’t think she was very important. However, after the first week, he went to his vizier and said, “There is a woman who has come every day for a week, with something wrapped in a napkin, who always stands directly before me. Tomorrow, you will ensure that she is called on so I might know what her business is.”

 **EG:** Well, nice of him not to keep her waiting longer than a week.

 **JB:** Indeed. The next morning, when the sultan entered, the vizier called upon Aladdin’s mother at once. She stepped forward and bowed low to the floor, not rising until the sultan told her to. “Good woman, I have seen you here every day for a week,” the sultan said. “What is your business?”

“Monarch of monarchs, a thousand apologies. I can only beg your forgiveness for my petition.”

“You have my forgiveness,” the sultan said. “You are free to speak as boldly as you wish.”

Thus assured she would not draw the sultan’s anger, Aladdin’s mother explained her request, and that she had told her son to reconsider.

 **EG:** Was this sultan known for having a bad temper?

 **JB:** I don’t think so…but it was a very bold request for a poor woman to make.

 **EG:** That’s another thing. Aladdin and his father were given names, but not his mother. Why is that?

 **JB:** I suppose it wasn’t considered very important.

 **EG:** More disrespect for women. It’s a wonder your species managed to procreate for so long.

 **JB:** Yes, well…I’m not going to get into that. It’s highly unpleasant. The sultan assured the woman that he was not angry at her request, and asked her what was tied up in the napkin. She unwrapped the bowl and showed the sultan the jewels. “A gift to the princess from my son,” she explained. “So that you and she might see the benefits of the match.”

 **EG:** I’d admonish him for being yet another man trying to buy a woman’s heart with money, but I think presenting a king with jewels when you’re poor would be a better plan than offering a hovel with the promise of selling dishes for food.

 **JB:** Exactly. The sultan was impressed by the jewels, and said to his vizier, “Are they not a worthy gift? Would such a rich man not make a perfect match for my daughter?”

 **EG:** I will, however, admonish the sultan for judging a potential match for his daughter based on a bowl of jewels without ever meeting the man.

 **JB:** The vizier thought so as well. “Sire,” he said. “This is most impressive; however, I beg that you wait three months to make a decision, so that my son, who has long been favored to marry your daughter, might have the chance to find a better gift to her.”

 **EG:** If I were the sultan, I’d give my daughter to the man I know is of good breeding and character and tell Aladdin to take his jewels elsewhere.

 **JB:** The sultan didn’t know Aladdin’s reputation…and he has turned his life around a lot.

 **EG:** He’s still a cad who watches women bathe. Too bad no one’s going to tell the sultan that.

 **JB:** Right…I’m afraid I’m going to leave off there for tonight. It’s about the halfway point and I’m on duty early tomorrow.

 **EG:** Oh, Scheherazade, don’t tell me you’re leaving for the night! Without me knowing if Aladdin will get his comeuppance for his deplorable actions?

 **JB:** Alas, you’ll have to stave off my execution for another day! I’ll be back tomorrow to tell you the rest.

 **EG:** I look forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp (Part Two).


	12. Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of Aladdin, requested by EverLurk.

**Elim Garak’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**EG:** I had a word with Chief O’Brien and he was able to get jasmine tea into my replicator for you. I must say, it is rather nice.

 **JB:** I’ve always thought so. So! We left off with the sultan promising to think for three months before allowing his daughter to marry. He told Aladdin’s mother that in three month’s time, she could return and he would give his daughter to Aladdin.

 **EG:** The ninny.

 **JB:** She returned home and told Aladdin the good news, and he rejoiced at the thought. However, after two months had passed, word came that Princess Jasmine was to marry the vizier’s son after all.

 **EG:** I would object to the sultan breaking his promise to allow his daughter to marry Aladdin in three months, but given Aladdin’s character, I think he’s quite right.

 **JB:** Well, Aladdin wasn’t to be outwitted. He went at once to his own apartment, which he had taken up since his fortunes had turned, and called upon the djinn of the lamp. “Hear me,” Aladdin said. “Tonight, the Princess Jasmine is to marry the vizier’s son, even though she was promised to me. As soon as they retire to their bedchamber, bring them both to me.” The djinn bowed.

 **EG:** What’s he going to do, kill his rival?

 **JB:** Nothing so crude. The celebration went on all day, and the wedding ceremony was completed that night. But as soon as Princess Jasmine and her groom went to the bedchamber, the djinn, invisible, picked up the bed with both of them in it, and carried them to Aladdin’s apartment. Once there, Aladdin commanded the djinn to remove the groom. Once alone with the princess, Aladdin told her what the sultan had promised, and promised to show her that he would treat her with the utmost love and respect. To this end, he stayed well away and did not come close to her all night.

 **EG:** Well, at least we can’t add sexual assault to his list of crimes…though kidnapping is still a bit severe.

 **JB:** It is a bit much, especially since Aladdin is a bit of a scoundrel. When morning came, the djinn returned the princess and her groom to the palace, the groom having spent the night cold and motionless outside Aladdin’s door. The sultan entered the bedchamber and congratulated his daughter, but he saw that she was upset, though she would not tell him why. The festivities continued, with the next part of the ceremony being read. That night, everything happened exactly as before, with the djinn taking Princess Jasmine and her groom to Aladdin and leaving the poor groom outside all night. When they returned the next morning, the princess could not hide her sorrow, and told her father the whole affair, but didn’t mention the broken promise to Aladdin. Concluding the marriage cursed, the sultan cancelled the whole thing, leaving the princess once again available. Everyone was surprised, but since the princess, the groom and the sultan refused to speak of the matter, no one learned what had happened.

 **EG:** I am ever more disgusted with Aladdin. There are probably plenty of other women who would be impressed by him; why not let the princess be happy with someone who, as far as I can tell, has done nothing to draw Aladdin’s ire?

 **JB:** Aladdin felt that since the sultan had promised the princess to him, it was his right to stop her marriage to someone else.

 **EG:** I rather got the impression that the vizier’s son was promised the princess before Aladdin was.

 **JB:** Not promised, just favored. At any rate, the sultan and the vizier had forgotten all about Aladdin in the intervening time and didn’t connect him to the strange things that happened to Jasmine and her groom.

 **EG:** You’d think they’d remember the jewels.

 **JB:** When the three months were up, Aladdin’s mother returned to the sultan and asked the sultan to honor his promise. The sultan remembered then, and he and his vizier held a hasty conference to decide what to do. In the end, they agreed to give Aladdin a task he surely couldn’t fulfill and the sultan went back. “A sultan keeps his promises,” he said. “But I cannot give my daughter to your son without further proof that he can support her in a royal state. Tell him that I want forty golden trays, laid with jewels like those you showed me before, carried by forty slaves, all dressed as magnificently as he can manage.”

 **EG:** Setting aside the slavery issue—

 **JB:** It was common accepted practice in those days.

 **EG:** I assumed so…but I think the sultan is justified in this. After all, his daughter living in a common apartment would hardly be appropriate to her station.

 **JB:** If you say so. Aladdin’s mother went to him at once, and told him the sultan’s request. “You will not have the time to gather such things, even if you had them!” she said.

“Not so,” Aladdin said. He went inside and summoned the djinn of the lamp, and repeated the request. The djinn bowed, and almost immediately a train of forty slaves, each laden with a golden tray of jewels and dressed in clothes even more magnificent than the sultan’s appeared. Aladdin went to his mother and told her to lead the party to the sultan at once, before he closed petitions for the day.

 **EG:** Why didn’t the djinn have them appear in front of the palace so they wouldn’t have to walk so far?

 **JB:** Aladdin didn’t want the sultan to know that his riches came from magic.

 **EG:** And the djinn can just create life from nothing?

 **JB:** Perhaps he summoned them from elsewhere…or made them out of the vermin around the city. Or maybe they were androids.

 **EG:** I will accept any of those explanations; a pity the writer didn’t think to include them.

 **JB:** It’s magic, they don’t have to explain that. Anyway, Aladdin’s mother led the whole procession through the city to the palace. Spectators turned out from every corner to watch, for no one had ever seen such a sight. They went straight to the palace, each slave perfectly spaced and walking in perfect rhythm. Once they had reached the throne room, they turned, half to one side and half to the other until they formed a semicircle around the throne. The slaves knelt and put down their trays, bowed before the sultan, and uncovered their bearings.

“Sire,” Aladdin’s mother said. “My son presents these gifts to your princess, knowing that they are beneath her notice and begging for her indulgence.”

The sultan, overwhelmed by such magnificence, told her to bring her son at once, that he might be welcomed with open arms as the new husband to Princess Jasmine.

 **EG:** I am finished being disgusted at the idea of material wealth being the only qualification to be a woman’s husband.

 **JB:** It was justified at the time. Women rarely had their own money and often went from the care of their father straight to that of a husband. Having a husband who could provide for you was important.

 **EG:** Well, then I am glad you are evolved beyond such scruples; as this story has already taught us, a tailor’s income is hardly enough to support a spouse.

 **JB:** You might give me more than two weeks to think about that.

 **EG:** Nevertheless, I hope you won’t be swayed from my side by a Ferengi with a stack of latinum.

 **JB:** He would have to be a very charming Ferengi. Anyway, Aladdin’s mother ran home at once to tell him the news, while the gifts were taken straight to the princess. When Aladdin heard the news, he ordered the djinn of the lamp to fetch him a bath and clothes fit for the richest monarch in the world. The djinn obeyed, giving Aladdin the finest bath he had ever had. Once clean, Aladdin looked quite a different fellow, and the clothes the djinn dressed him in after were finer than any the sultan had. Once that was done, Aladdin ordered a horse finer than any in the sultan’s stable, along with a whole host of slaves to attend him and his mother, dressed as magnificently as the ones from before, ten thousand gold pieces in ten fine purses, and six new dresses for his mother.

 **EG:** At least he included his mother in his lavish requests. I’m thinking I might also take this one to Ferenginar.

 **JB:** It doesn’t have much to do with acquiring wealth so much as wishing for it…and you might want to wait until I finish.

 **EG:** No doubt you’re right, but children’s stories sell magnificently on Ferenginar, even if I don’t see nearly enough of the profits.

 **JB:** A tragedy for you. All was carried out as Aladdin ordered; six of the slaves were given as attendants to his mother, along with four of the purses of gold so that she would be well provided for. Aladdin ordered the other six thousand pieces be thrown to the people as they processed through the town. He then dismissed the djinn and mounted his horse, which he rode with grace and assurance in spite of never having been on a horse before.

 **EG:** Did the djinn give Aladdin the ability to perfectly adapt to every situation?

 **JB:** I think he had that ability on his own…that’s a good quality, isn’t it?

 **EG:** I suppose we can put that on our list of reasons to recommend him…smart enough not to give strange magicians powerful artifacts, can summon immense riches when needed, loves his mother, highly adaptable.

 **JB:** There, see? He’s not so bad.

 **EG:** …whereas his list of reasons to hate him includes laziness, not smart enough to recognize the value of things, drove his father to his grave, blindly believes anyone who claims to be family, uses wishes to get his way instead of earning it, looks at women in what was considered immodest states of dress, kidnapping…

 **JB:** I get your point. Anyway, Aladdin on his horse led his retinue through the city. Those on either side of him tossed handfuls of gold to the crowd that gathered around him, causing quite a stir among the populace. When Aladdin reached the palace, the sultan was so impressed by the procession, and by Aladdin’s good looks and grace and clothes, that he at once embraced Aladdin and bade him sit beside him.

 **EG:** He’s not even going to speak to him before declaring them equals?

 **JB:** Suppose not. That night, they feasted, and watched the finest entertainment, and the sultan called for a marriage contract to be drawn up at once. He asked Aladdin if he would like to begin the ceremony of marriage that night, but Aladdin declined. “As impatient as I am to marry Princess Jasmine,” Aladdin said. “I first beg your indulgence and ask for time to build her a palace finer than she has ever seen, so that she may live in the greatest comfort; I would purchase land from you nearby, so that you need not be separated, for I know how you love her so.”

 **EG:** Not enough to keep her from marrying a rapscallion.

 **JB:** The sultan granted the request and sold Aladdin the land at once. Aladdin took his leave with the grace and manners of a prince and returned home, only waylaid slightly by people wishing him well and congratulating him on his good fortune.

 **EG:** Oh, I suppose they’ve all forgotten his misspent youth?

 **JB:** He had made a name for himself as a trader by then. And he had learned more manners in the interim.

 **EG:** Good manners are not a sign of good breeding. Look at Gul Dukat.

 **JB:** I see your point…and bad manners are not a sign of poor personality…look at Chief O’Brien.

 **EG:** Exactly…even if the Chief isn’t my favorite person.

 **JB:** Anyway, Aladdin returned to his chambers and called the djinn again. “I want a palace built, from the finest materials. The walls should be gold and silver inside, and there should be a large garden and courtyard, and stables and kitchens and supplies and servants and a treasury all filled with the best of everything…” All right, this bit is quite boring, but the important thing is that Aladdin asked that one window be left incomplete.

 **EG:** Why?

 **JB:** You’ll see. Aladdin gave his orders at sundown, and when morning broke, the djinn returned and transported Aladdin at once to the palace he had made, where everything was precisely as Aladdin had asked, furnished and staffed and supplied. Aladdin then ordered that a fine carpet be laid between his palace and the sultan’s for the princess to walk upon.

 **EG:** She must be very delicate if she can’t put her feet on the ground.

 **JB:** More like Aladdin wanted to impress her further. Once it was done, Aladdin returned home and bade his mother, now finely dressed and attended upon, to go to the princess and tell her the palace was ready. She went at once and informed the princess. As they were speaking, the sultan came in. He was surprised to find the woman he knew for wearing poor clothing now dressed even better than the princess, and it raised his opinion of Aladdin to know he took such good care of his mother.

 **EG:** And yet he didn’t get her new clothes until he’d gotten the hand of the princess.

 **JB:** I know…anyway, while that was happening, Aladdin packed up everything he had and left his father’s house forever, taking the lamp and ring with him as he went to the palace. The sultan once again greeted Aladdin warmly, and the marriage was completed that day. Once it was done, the princess and Aladdin’s mother were carried to the new palace on great litters.

 **EG:** He lays down a carpet and she doesn’t even have to walk?

 **JB:** It was the principle of the thing. Aladdin met them there and took them in to a feast…look this whole bit is very boring, but suffice to say, everything was perfect and the princess was very impressed by it.

 **EG:** I take it you’re not impressed by descriptions of obscene displays of wealth?

 **JB:** Believe it or not, I’ve already cut most of it out. If I didn’t, we’d be here much longer than two nights and I have other stories to tell you.

 **EG:** I’m wounded. How can you expect to get my genuine reactions when you’re doing so much abridging?

 **JB:** If you want, I can lend you the full text and we can do a follow-up session where you tell me what you thought of that.

 **EG:** Perhaps that would be best…please, continue.

 **JB:** Anyway, Aladdin and the princess went to their marriage chamber at the end. The next day, Aladdin rose and dressed in clothes just as magnificent as the day before and went back to the sultan’s palace. The sultan immediately canceled all his other appointments and Aladdin took him to the new palace. The sultan was overwhelmed by the…what was it? “Obscene displays of wealth.” “But why is there a window unfinished?” the sultan asked.

“I thought you would like the glory of finishing it yourself,” Aladdin said.

The sultan agreed and ordered the best jewelers and smiths to do so, giving them free access to the jewels in his treasury…look, this is also very boring, I’m going to summarize again.

 **EG:** If you so insist.

 **JB:** The jewelers couldn’t match the glory of the other jeweled windows, so Aladdin sent them back to the sultan and had the djinn do it, the sultan was very impressed.

 **EG:** This is rather a dense story, isn’t it?

 **JB:** Believe it or not, it’s easily cut down to a few hours’ performance. Anyway, Aladdin and the princess lived in splendor for many years. Aladdin went out often to the mosques and to visit the sultan and viziers and such, and everywhere he went, he had his attendants toss money to the people, for he remembered what it was to live in poverty.

 **EG:** Ah, generosity. Is he hoping to make up for his past misdeeds?

 **JB:** Perhaps. Anyway, after many years, the magician from the beginning…you remember him?

 **EG:** Cardassian memory, my dear. Of course I do.

 **JB:** Right, well he had long since put Aladdin out of his mind, but one day curiosity was pulling at him, so he consulted his crystal ball. Imagine his surprise when he found that, instead of perishing in the cave, Aladdin was now living as a prince! The magician knew that it was by the magic of the lamp, so the next day he set out at once to the city. He took lodgings in an inn and learned all he could about Aladdin, looked at the palace and knew it was all built by magic. He resolved to take the lamp and reduce Aladdin to the same poor state in which the magician had first found him.

 **EG:** Now, really! Aladdin may have been a scoundrel, but he seems to have improved his character…at least, that’s the impression I’m getting.

 **JB:** He had. All the people loved him for his generosity and kindness to them. The magician was determined, so he consulted his crystal again to see where the lamp was. To his delight, it was in the palace, and he learned from the innkeeper that Aladdin was away on a week-long hunting trip.

 **EG:** And he didn’t take the lamp with him? I take it back—Aladdin is a fool and if he can’t be bothered to take the most valuable thing he owns with him for a week away, he deserves whatever he gets.

 **JB:** I suppose he didn’t want to lose it in the wilderness. Anyway, the magician went to a copper smith and ordered a dozen new lamps to be made by the next day. The smith carried out the order. The magician took the lamps and went to Aladdin’s palace, where he walked up and down shouting “Old lamps for new! Old lamps for new!” Naturally, this caused a bit of a stir, since people thought he was quite made to trade shiny new lamps for old lamps.

 **EG:** I’d take him up on it…though yes, it does sound like a ludicrous arrangement.

 **JB:** A bit. Princess Jasmine happened to be passing the windows and heard the commotion, so she sent one of her attendants out to see what all the fuss was about. The attendant returned in good time, laughing, and told the princess what had transpired. The princess remembered that she had seen a very old and dirty lamp on her husband’s shelf, and, not knowing its true value, said, “Surely he would be best pleased at such an offer!” So she fetched the old lamp, and sent her attendant down to make the trade. The magician knew this was the lamp he wanted, and he took it at once and told the attendant to choose a new one. The attendant did so and the magician took off straight away.

 **EG:** Again, Aladdin is a fool for leaving the lamp at home, and in plain sight of anyone who wanted to take it. At the very least, he should have made clear to his wife that he wanted it kept safe, even if he didn’t tell her what it was.

 **JB:** I suppose it would have been too much for him to explain to her.

 **EG:** Nonsense! All he would have to tell her was that it belonged to his late father and had great sentimental value; she would surely understand that!

 **JB:** Maybe. At any rate, the trade was made with the princess not knowing what she had done. The magician immediately left the city, abandoning his new lamps somewhere, and went to a secluded place, where he summoned the djinn. “What is thy will, master?” the djinn asked.

“I wish that I, and the palace you built for Aladdin, with everyone inside, be transported to Africa,”

 **EG:** …why?

 **JB:** What?

 **EG:** Why is he asking for Aladdin’s palace? If he has the lamp, he can have his own palace built.

 **JB:** He wanted to punish Aladdin, I suppose.

 **EG:** For what? If he had just helped Aladdin out of the cave, he would have gotten the lamp without a fight!

 **JB:** I know, but…well, he wanted revenge anyway. The djinn bowed and in the blink of an eye, the palace was gone. Early the next morning, the sultan glanced out his window and was shocked to see that Aladdin’s palace was gone, and his daughter with it! The sultan was much upset by this, and went at once to consult with his vizier. The vizier, who was still resentful of Princess Jasmine marrying Aladdin instead of his son, suggested that Aladdin had built the palace by magic and that his hunting trip was to cover for it being removed in the same fashion.

 **EG:** Well…he’s not wrong.

 **JB:** Aladdin had nothing to do with the disappearance, though. The vizier suggested that Aladdin be arrested and put to death at once, and the sultan, mad with grief over the loss of his daughter, agreed. The palace guards went and found Aladdin at once and dragged him before the sultan, who did not even give Aladdin a chance to speak before he ordered his execution. However, Aladdin was so well-loved by the people that there was an immediate outcry that forced the sultan to reconsider and finally spare Aladdin’s life.

 **EG:** Once again, I must remind you that such a thing would never happen in the Cardassian justice system. We never condemn anyone until we are sure they are guilty.

 **JB:** Unless you need to further a political agenda.

 **EG:** In that case, they are still guilty of hindering the well-being of the State. At any rate, on Cardassia the execution would not be ordered until Aladdin had confessed to using black magic—which, might I remind you, he did.

 **JB:** Is using black magic a crime on Cardassia?

 **EG:** Not officially, but it does fall under the broad category of crimes against the state, especially since it also involved deceiving the ruler and kidnapping the princess at one point.

 **JB:** But for the crime of destroying the palace, he was innocent.

 **EG:** Being innocent of one crime does not make you guiltless of the others.

 **JB:** Anyway, the sultan was forced to spare Aladdin’s life. Only then did Aladdin have the chance to ask what he was even accused of. The sultan took Aladdin up to the window where he usually looked on the other palace and pointed out it wasn’t there.

 **EG:** How did Aladdin not notice that when he was being dragged back into the city?

 **JB:** I suppose he was blindfolded, it was common practice. Aladdin was just as shocked as the sultan at seeing his palace had vanished. “Please,” Aladdin said. “Though I had nothing to do with the disappearance, I beg that I be allowed forty days to discover what happened and restore the palace and your daughter; if at the end of that time I have not, you may execute me.”

 **EG:** I suppose that is reasonable, though I don’t know how Aladdin would pull it off.

 **JB:** The sultan agreed and Aladdin left, much dejected. He wandered the city for three days, asking everyone he met if they knew anything without much luck. Finally, he wandered out of the city to a great river and contemplated throwing himself in to be saved the humiliation he would find at the executioner’s block. He began his prayers and rubbed his hands together, and rubbed the ring he still wore on his finger.

 **EG:** Did he forget all about it?

 **JB:** He hadn’t needed the djinn of the ring, since the djinn of the lamp was so much more powerful. Still, the djinn of the ring sprang forth. “What is thy will, master?” it asked.

“Return my palace and its inhabitants to its proper place!” Aladdin commanded.

“Alas, it is not in my power,” the djinn said. “For the djinn of the lamp is much more powerful than I, and only he can undo his spell.”

“Then take me to my palace, wherever it is,” Aladdin commanded, and at once, he was standing just outside the palace on a wide plain in Africa, underneath Princess Jasmine’s window.

 **EG:** Convenient that he wasn’t transported under the magician’s window.

 **JB:** The djinn of the ring understood the spirit of the request. The princess looked outside and saw Aladdin, and with great joy she sent her attendant to let him in a little side door. Aladdin went up and embraced his wife, and asked her what happened. With great sorrow, she told him that she had changed his lamp for a new one, not realizing what it was until she was far away from home and the magician, gloating, had told her. Aladdin asked where the lamp was. “He keeps it on him always,” the princess said. “In his vest, where I cannot hope to take it back.

 **EG:** Showing some cleverness at last, I see. More than Aladdin, anyway.

 **JB:** He’d already proven it was easy to steal. Aladdin soothed her, and promised to make it right. “I must go into the nearest town,” he said. “And I must be in disguise. Do as I say, and all will be well, but you must let me in at my first knock.”

 **EG:** I assume his wife can see through his disguises.

 **JB:** I would hope so, though this is fairy tale land, so she would have to look very hard. Anyway, Aladdin went out and found a peasant man, who he offered to trade clothes with. The peasant was very glad to do so, and Aladdin, now dressed as a poor and dirty man, went into town. He went straight to an apothecary and ordered a certain drug, which he paid for handsomely. Once supplied, he returned to the palace and knocked at the side door. The princess let him in and they slipped up to her room. “Now listen carefully,” Aladdin said. “This is a sleeping drug. Tonight, you must be friendly to the magician, and invite him in here. Have this potion in your own glass, but only pretend to drink it. You will entertain him, and when the evening is over, offer to trade glasses with him. Once he has taken the potion, he will sleep and we can take the lamp and return home.”

 **EG:** What’s going to go wrong?

 **JB:** Surprisingly, nothing. Princess Jasmine invited the magician upstairs and entertained him, and when she offered to trade glasses, he gladly agreed and swallowed the contents of the poison cup straight away. He passed out at once, upon which time Aladdin entered the room, took the lamp, and called on the djinn to return the palace to its rightful place. The djinn did so at once and the next morning, when the sultan looked out, he was overjoyed to see the palace once again there.

 **EG:** Of course he was.

 **JB:** Quite. He rushed down at once, and embraced his daughter, and asked Aladdin what happened. Aladdin told him that is was the work of the wicked magician, who the sultan ordered be executed at once.

 **EG:** And they lived happily ever after?

 **JB:** Well…yes, I suppose we can leave it there. There is another episode, where the magician’s even more wicked brother comes to take revenge on Aladdin, but that bit’s omitted from most of the retellings and I think this story has gone on quite long enough. The sultan died and having no male heir, Aladdin took his place, where he ruled wisely and generously for many years to come.

 **EG:** That is quite the tale. I will say that I think it is my favorite of all you’ve told me so far.

 **JB:** Is it really? In spite of the fact that the protagonist left a lot to be desired?

 **EG:** It’s much more complete, and it was quite exciting. I am eager to read the full text.

 **JB:** Before you do, what do you think the lesson is?

 **EG:** Let me see…don’t give away unknown artifacts, and when all else fails, sheer dumb luck will see you through, even if you don’t deserve it.

 **JB:** Interesting…I think the real point was that if you are determined and generous and clever, good things will happen to you.

 **EG:** I can see that interpretation as well…so, same time tomorrow? Or does your voice need a rest?

 **JB:** After all that, I rather think it does. Good night, Garak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves


	13. Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by EverLurk.

**Julian Bashir’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**JB:** So, what did you think of the full text of Aladdin?

 **EG:** I notice you omitted most of the racial connotations from your retelling.

 **JB:** Yes, I didn’t want to have to explain the full history of Jewish persecution to you.

 **EG:** I did have to do quite a lot of research on that. And while the minute details were appreciated while I was reading, I am very glad you didn’t include them all or we would have been discussing that story for a week.

 **JB:** And I would have quite lost my voice.

 **EG:** And I also see why you cut the last episode…it is rather pointless and anticlimactic. But reading the full story didn’t change my views of it much.

 **JB:** Well, that’s good. It means I included all the important bits.

 **EG:** Always a good sign. And what’s the story for tonight?

 **JB:** It’s another one from the Thousand and One Nights, but it’s much shorter than Aladdin so I won’t leave you hanging in the middle.

 **EG:** Alas, I suppose I will have to find another excuse not to kill you in the morning.

 **JB:** My pretty face isn’t enough?

 **EG:** It’s a start.

 **JB:** I’ll accept that. Tonight’s story is Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. Once upon a time in the land of Persia, there were two brothers named Cassim and Ali Baba. Cassim was very wealthy and had a rich wife of good breeding, but he was also very greedy and selfish. Ali Baba was very poor, and supported his family by cutting wood, but he was very kind and generous, even when he had so little to spare.

 **EG:** And his brother was selfish enough not to help him?

 **JB:** He was very wicked.

 **EG:** Indeed! Even the worst of Cardassia wouldn’t allow their brothers to starve! It’s unheard of!

 **JB:** Well, Ali Baba was still content in his life. One day, Ali Baba was out in the woods cutting wood when he heard a large host of horses coming. Quickly, he hid up in a tree and watched as forty richly-dressed men rode into the clearing. Their clothes were fine, but their bearing was rough and Ali Baba realized that they were a notorious gang of thieves who had been terrorizing the village.

 **EG:** And of course, I can’t wait to hear what gruesome end they meet.

 **JB:** How do you know it will be gruesome?

 **EG:** Is there ever a clean, quiet death in these stories?

 **JB:** I suppose not. Ali Baba watched as the thieves rode to a blank rockface and dismounted. The finest among them, their leader, stepped forward and called out loudly, “Open Sesame!”

 **EG:** I’ve heard that phrase around the station; but isn’t sesame a type of seed?

 **JB:** The original translation was “open simsim,” but that doesn’t sound nearly as exciting, does it?

 **EG:** Mm, no, I see what you mean.

 **JB:** But you’re quite right, “open sesame” is a fairly common saying…this is just its origin. As soon as the thief leader had spoken, a cave opened up in the rock face. The thieves went inside and the opening closed behind them. Ali Baba remained hidden, not wanting to be seen when they came out again. Presently, the cave opened and the thieves left and mounted their horses, and the leader said, “Close sesame” and the way was shut.

 **EG:** Why is he shouting it so loud, anyway? If I had a secret cave, I wouldn’t scream the password where everyone could here.

 **JB:** It was a very secluded part of the forest and you had to declare the phrase loudly or it wouldn’t work.

 **EG:** Was the cave hard of hearing?

 **JB:** I suppose so. The forty thieves rode away. Ali Baba waited for a few minutes to make sure they were really gone before he climbed down from his tree and went to the rock face, where he loudly declared “open sesame” just as the thief had done. Immediately the cave opened and Ali Baba stepped inside.

 **EG:** Say what you will about the cave in Aladdin, at least it wouldn’t open to just anyone!

 **JB:** Caves are fickle like that. Inside, the cavern was vast, lit with magic torches, and it was full of treasure, fine linens and jewels and silver and gold coins. Ali Baba stared for a moment before his senses caught up with him and he gathered two bags of gold—there was enough of it he didn’t think the thieves would notice.

 **EG:** Does he intend to return it to the people it was no doubt stolen from?

 **JB:** Well, no, because he didn’t know who they were. But as I said, Ali Baba was a very generous man, so he probably intended to share it anyway. He carried the two bags of gold to the entrance, where the magic words let him out, and made sure to close up the cave behind him. He put the gold in his cart under the wood and hurried home.

 **EG:** Quite right. Can’t have people spotting him with stolen goods.

 **JB:** Exactly. He took the bags in to his wife and poured them out, bidding her to keep them a secret. He intended to bury the gold so that it could not be stolen back, but his wife first wanted to weigh it.

 **EG:** Weigh it, not count it?

 **JB:** There was enough of it that counting it was impractical. Of course, they had no scales in the house large enough to weigh the gold, so Ali Baba’s wife went to her sister-in-law and asked to borrow a set. The rich woman was perplexed and wanted to know what sort of grain Ali Baba was weighing that required her large scales, so she quietly painted wax over them before giving them to her sister.

 **EG:** Wax?

 **JB:** Or suet in some translations. Anyway, Ali Baba’s wife took the scales back and they weighed the gold, handful after handful. There was so much of it that neither of them noticed one of the coins stuck in the wax. Once they were finished, Ali Baba took the bags out to their yard and buried them so they would be hidden, and his wife took the scales back to their owner. Cassim’s wife spotted the gold coin in the wax straight away and went to her husband. “Husband,” she said. “Your brother is using scales to weigh his money—he is richer than you!”

 **EG:** Let me guess—Cassim is not overjoyed at his brother’s good fortune.

 **JB:** No. Like I said, Cassim was very selfish and greedy. He enjoyed seeing his brother struggle, and at once became jealous that Ali Baba may have more money than him.

 **EG:** He is a disgrace to the very idea of family.

 **JB:** Cassim could think of nothing else all day. The next day, he could stand it no longer and he went to Ali Baba. “Brother,” he said. “You pretend to be poor and yet you weigh gold on my large scales. What is the purpose of your deception?”

Ali Baba, only too glad to share his fortune with his brother, told Cassim everything, including where to find the cave and how to open it. Cassim proposed that they go back together, for the two of them could carry more of the treasure than just one, and Ali Baba agreed.

 **EG:** I bet Cassim was lying. That seems to be a common trend in these stories.

 **JB:** You are getting good at this. Cassim woke very early the next morning and set out without his brother. He went straight to the place Ali Baba had described and said the magic words…you do this bit.

 **EG:** Oh, are we back to audience participation? Very well—“Open sesame!”

 **JB:** Very good! The rock opened and Cassim went inside, whereupon it promptly closed behind him. He didn’t mind and set about filling the bags he’d brought with as many of the riches as he could possibly fit. Once he was finished, he turned to go, but he had been so focused on gathering his riches that he forgot the magic words to reopen the cave.

 **EG:** How could he forget two words after using them just a few minutes before?

 **JB:** Try an hour or two. At any rate, Cassim soon became very frightened and could not even think. Soon enough, the forty thieves rode up. They saw the packhorses Cassim had brought with him and grew alarmed that someone may have discovered their secret, so they drew their swords as they approached. The leader called the magic words and they rushed in. Cassim had heard them approach, but he took no more than one step before the thieves cut him down and hacked him into four pieces, which they hung outside the cave as a warning to anyone else who might try to steal their treasure.

 **EG:** Gruesome, but I can’t say I’m sorry about it.

 **JB:** Because he was trying to steal from them or because he didn’t care for his family?

 **EG:** Oh, the latter. It seems that these Eastern stories have a much different view on taking treasure from magic caves than I would.

 **JB:** Quite. The thieves deposited their loot for the day and left the cave. Hours passed and Cassim’s wife grew very worried. She went to Ali Baba, who had been waiting for his brother all day, and told him where he had gone. Also worried now, Ali Baba rode back to the cave. He was horrified when he discovered his brother’s body in such a state, and very quickly unnailed him and hid him in his wood cart before also gathering a bit more gold, to pass on to the widow.

 **EG:** He should have left his brother there, so that he might be disgraced by every passing stranger looking at him. It’s the least he deserves.

 **JB:** Ali Baba didn’t feel that way. He took his cart back to Cassim’s house, where he was greeted by a slave girl named Morgiana, who was very clever and cunning. Ali Baba told her of her master’s murder and bade her help him take the body inside. “We must make it look as though he died in his bed,” Ali Baba said. “Or else the thieves will discover us and will take their revenge.” He gave Morgiana instructions and went to console his brother’s widow. She wept heartily at the loss of her husband, but Ali Baba promised he and his wife would look after her so long as she did as he said without question.

 **EG:** Quite right. Even if his brother was disloyal, he can hardly leave the widow on her own—even if it was her own fault that her husband got involved to begin with.

 **JB:** Meanwhile, Morgiana went to the apothecary. “My master has fallen ill,” she said. “He neither speaks nor eats; his wife has sent me to purchase lozenges for him.” The apothecary sold her what she asked for without question. The next day, Morgiana returned. “My master is at the moment of death,” she said. “Please, give me something so that his suffering may not be prolonged.” This was common practice in those days, so the apothecary gave her a quick poison. To no one’s surprise, that night there was much weeping and wailing at Cassim’s house, and Ali Baba announced to the town that Cassim was dead.

 **EG:** It will be fairly difficult to explain why they cut him up…or did he intend to keep the casket closed?

 **JB:** Worse. That night, Morgiana went to a tailor and bade him bring his needle and thread. She blindfolded him and led him to Ali Baba’s house, where the body had been moved. She removed the cloth and asked the tailor to sew the body back together.

 **EG:** Eurgh! I’m sorry, my dear, but I really must protest! It seems to me that almost every tailor I hear about in these stories is a scoundrel or an object of abuse by all the other characters!

 **JB:** So you’re saying you couldn’t sew a body back together?

 **EG:** I didn’t say that I couldn’t do it, only that I would protest heavily. Also, I doubt I’d do a very good job of it—his organs have probably all fallen out and it would be very difficult to make it look natural. She would have been better off going to a doctor such as yourself.

 **JB:** No one would notice if inner organs were missing. And they didn’t have to be in the right place so long as the outer body was put together, it wasn’t like anyone was going to do an autopsy back then.

 **EG:** It would still be rather difficult and unpleasant and I’d probably refuse on principle.

 **JB:** They paid the tailor handsomely for his trouble. So the tailor sewed Cassim back together and was once again blindfolded and led back to his shop. The next day, Cassim was buried with all the proper rituals, Morgiana and his wife weeping the whole time. Once the funeral was over, Ali Baba took Cassim’s wife and Morgiana back to his own home, and since Cassim had no children, Ali Baba’s eldest son took over his business.

 **EG:** Hopefully Ali Baba’s son knows what’s due to his family so they won’t have to bother the thieves again.

 **JB:** That was the thinking, yes, and Ali Baba’s son was just as kind and generous as his father. When the thieves returned to the cave, they were alarmed to see that the body was gone. “Clearly there were two men who knew our secret,” the leader said. “One of you must go to town in disguise and learn the dead man’s identity and discover who took the body. Fail, and you will die!”

 **EG:** Rather a strong motivator, but probably necessary.

 **JB:** They were wicked thieves, after all. Anyway, one of the men volunteered and disguised himself as a common traveler. Surely it would not be difficult to find someone who would speak of the strange manner of a man’s death! But somehow, no one mentioned anything about it…that is, until the thief went to the tailor’s shop.

 **EG:** Ah yes, because we tailors are notorious gossips.

 **JB:** You can be.

 **EG:** Never about anything important.

 **JB:** Too true. The thief looked at the tailor’s wares, and complimented him. “I am amazed that you still sew so well at such an advanced age.”

 **EG:** Rude. With age comes experience, and greater skill.

 **JB:** But also loss of eyesight and hand-eye coordination in humans. The tailor laughed and said, “I may be growing old, but I can still see perfectly well. Why, just the other night I was asked to sew a body back together, in almost complete darkness!”

 **EG:** Why would he mention that? Wouldn’t it draw the attention of local law enforcement?

 **JB:** There really wasn’t much of that in those days. The thief asked the tailor where such a thing had taken place, but the tailor said he had been blindfolded so he could not say for certain, but perhaps if he were blindfolded again he could retrace his steps.

 **EG:** Why does the tailor want to help him?

 **JB:** Maybe the tailor thought that the thief was really law enforcement in disguise and wanted to help. Or maybe he was just so disturbed by the whole thing that he had to tell someone. Anyway, the thief blindfolded the tailor and they stumbled through the town. The tailor was very sure of his steps, and at last led the thief to Ali Baba’s house. The thief thanked him and gave him a handful of coins for his troubles, and sent the tailor on his way.

 **EG:** If I were that tailor, I would go on my way straight out of town to the next village. There are far too many strange things going on in this one and every town can use a good tailor.

 **JB:** I suppose the tailor was just too old and jaded. The thief took a piece of chalk and made a mark on the door so he would know it again and then hurried back to the cave. However, Morgiana happened to come back from an errand shortly thereafter and saw the mark. Knowing it couldn’t mean anything good, she took a piece of chalk and made identical marks on every door on the street.

 **EG:** Did no one ask her what she was doing?

 **JB:** People knew better than to ask questions in that town. The thief told his leader what he had done and the gang decided they would go that night to kill everyone in the house. But when they went back, they found every house was marked so they weren’t sure which was correct, and murdering an entire street of people would attract far too much attention. So they returned to the cave, the leader beheaded the man who had failed, and he sent another man to discover which house it was.

 **EG:** Let me guess—he finds the tailor, finds the house, and marks it in another way?

 **JB:** Yes…he chipped a bit of stone out of the steps. But Morginana once again noticed and so she went and chipped the steps of every house.

 **EG:** I’m very surprised no one arrested her for property damage.

 **JB:** Like I said, they probably just knew better. The thieves came that night, but seeing every step was chipped, they once again didn’t know which house it was. They returned to the cave and the second thief was put to death.

 **EG:** At this rate, the entire gang will be put to death…also, did they recruit more? The Thirty-Eight Thieves just doesn’t sound as impressive.

 **JB:** No, and it’s not as significant. You remember our discussion of threes and sevens? Forty was a significant number in both Christianity and Islam, which was the dominant religion of the Middle East for centuries…I’ll give you some readings on that if you’re interested.

 **EG:** I am always interested in learning more about your people.

 **JB:** All right, then. But yes, forty was a significant number so cutting down his men was probably not the smartest move. The leader of the thieves realized that his henchmen weren’t going to get the job done, so the next day he went to town himself and found the tailor. The tailor led him to the house, by now being quite sure of the way.

 **EG:** I imagine the house was becoming quite a popular tourist destination.

 **JB:** Seems that way. The thief paid the tailor and sent him off, then spent quite a long time examining the house, making sure he could recognize it again without marking it.

 **EG:** He probably should have done that to begin with.

 **JB:** If his thieves were clever, they would be able to make an honest living.

 **EG:** True.

 **JB:** The leader of the thieves then went into town and bought several mules and thirty-eight large oil jars, which were large enough for a man to fit in. He then carted it all back to the cave and had his men climb into the jars. The last one he filled with oil, so that if asked he could show it. Then he disguised himself as an oil merchant and made his way to Ali Baba’s house and knocked at the door. “Sir,” the thief said. “I am but a poor oil merchant, seeking rest from the road, and your generous nature is well-known throughout town. Might I stay here and rest a while?”

 **EG:** And I suppose Ali Baba didn’t recognize the thief, even though he’d seen him in the forest?

 **JB:** He hadn’t gotten a very good look at the man’s face and the disguise was quite convincing. Ali Baba welcomed him inside and offered to let him store his wares in the yard. The leader of the thieves thanked him and took everything inside. He then went down the line as if to check his merchandise, whispering to each man, “When I throw a handful of stones down from the window, cut yourself out of the jar and I will join you.” This done, he went inside.

 **EG:** I’m assuming the jars are made of straw or something?

 **JB:** Quite right. The leader then went inside, where Morgiana showed him to his room and then went to prepare supper. But she found that the lamp in the kitchen had gone out and she had no more oil in the house. She went to her master, who said that she could just take a bit from the merchant’s cart outside and he would pay for it in the morning.

 **EG:** A bit presumptuous, but he is providing lodgings to a stranger. I suppose a small bit of oil is a small enough price.

 **JB:** Exactly. Morgiana went out and opened the first jar. The thief inside couldn’t see her and he whispered, “Is it time?” Morgiana was a bit alarmed, but she kept her head and whispered back, “Not yet” and closed the jar up again. She went down the line and said the same thing to each thief until she finally reached the jar with oil. She took enough to light her lamp, and then fetched a kettle and took enough oil to fill it. Once it had boiled, she took it outside and poured burning oil in each pot, enough to stifle and kill each of the thieves.

 **EG:** Well! That’s rather gruesome of her! Why not simply raise the alarm?

 **JB:** She probably figured they couldn’t get enough people to fight all thirty-eight thieves at once and killing them quietly would be a much better choice. She then returned to the house to her own quarters and waited. When it was dark and all was quiet, the leader of the thieves threw a handful of pebbles from his window and hit the jars. When nothing moved, he became concerned and went down. He looked in each jar and discovered all his thieves were dead, and it did not take long for him to discover how. Knowing he’d been caught out, he quickly scrambled over the wall and made his escape. Morgiana watched this and went to bed content.

 **EG:** So what will the leading thief do now with no help?

 **JB:** Plot his next move. The next morning, Ali Baba awoke and asked what had happened to the merchant that he had left without his wares. Morgiana showed him the dead men in the jars and told him the whole story. Ali Baba thanked her for her help and they buried the bodies and sold the mules in the market.

 **EG:** Ah, so once again we learn that if you kill your enemies, you can take possession of their money.

 **JB:** A long and proud tradition. The leader of the thieves wasn’t done yet. He returned to the cave and found it rather lonely and frightening now. He knew that he must get his revenge on Ali Baba and his house. So he put on another disguise and took several of his fine goods from the cave. He went into town and set up a shop right next to the one Ali Baba’s son ran. Soon enough, they became friends, and through him the thief became friends with Ali Baba.

 **EG:** And Ali Baba still didn’t recognize him? He must be quite dim.

 **JB:** The thief was a very good actor, I suppose. Or else Ali Baba was a bit short-sighted. Either way, they grew close and the thief often invited Ali Baba’s family to have dinner with him. Naturally, courtesy dictated that Ali Baba return the favor, and so one day he invited the thief to have supper with them.

 **EG:** And we have our recurring theme of people being too stupid to recognize their own enemies wearing thin disguises and inviting them into their homes, where our heroes can be murdered at the villain’s leisure.

 **JB:** I keep telling you, you can’t expect high levels of intelligence from these people. The thief gladly accepted the invitation and went to Ali Baba’s house. Once there, he said that he could not eat food with any salt in it.

 **EG:** Very dull palette.

 **JB:** I think it had something to do with sin and such…people used to think salt had magical properties. I don’t understand it either. Ali Baba went to the kitchen and told Morgiana not to serve any salt to their guest that night. “Why not?” she asked.

“Because he has asked it, and he is an honest man so you will honor his wishes.”

Naturally, Morgiana was quite curious, so she helped carry the dishes up so she might catch a glimpse of this strange man.

 **EG:** Please tell me she remains more clever than her master.

 **JB:** She did. She recognized the thief at once for what he was, and furthermore spotted a dagger hidden in his belt. She realized that he intended to kill her masters that night, so she quickly devised a plan. The thief stayed long, pouring more and more wine for his Ali Baba and his son, hoping his hosts would become drunk so he could easily kill them.

 **EG:** Sensible, though he probably should have picked up a sleeping potion.

 **JB:** It didn’t occur to him, I suppose. Morgiana, meanwhile, dressed in the garb of a dancing girl and tied a dagger to her belt and enlisted one of the other slaves to play music for her. They went upstairs and bowed. “Shall I dance for you, Master?” Morgiana asked.

“Yes,” Ali Baba said. “You must see Morgiana dance; she is beyond compare.

The thief was not best pleased at the delay, but he pretended to be eager to see her dance. The other slave began to play and Morgiana began to dance, fast and skillful. As she danced, she pulled the dagger from her belt, incorporating it into her performance. At the end, she bowed and went around to each man. Ali Baba and his son each slipped coins into her belt and she then approached the thief. As he reached for his purse, she took the dagger and plunged it into his heart, killing him.

 **EG:** She’s very ruthless, isn’t she?

 **JB:** Quite. Ali Baba was shocked and asked her why she would ruin him so. “Not ruin you,” she said. “See! He is the leader of the thieves who have long sought to destroy you, come to this house to kill us all!” Ali Baba examined the man closely and saw that it was true. In gratitude, he gave Morgiana her freedom and offered her his son in marriage. Both were happy to accept. Ali Baba went back to the cave, now empty, and he told his son the secret so that his descendants would be well-off forevermore. The end…what do you think?

 **EG:** I think the story should be entitled “Morgiana and the Forty Thieves,” since she’s the only intelligent character in the story and she solves the problem. Ali Baba didn’t do anything except happen to stumble onto a cave.

 **JB:** You may be right…what do you think the lesson is?

 **EG:** The lesson, obviously, is don’t share your treasure or home with strangers because you can’t trust anyone, not even your own family, not to screw you over.

 **JB:** That seems like your usual brand of cynicism. The actual lesson is that being humble and generous will result in good luck, and loyalty will be rewarded.

 **EG:** I think your Federation optimism colors your views a bit.

 **JB:** Just as your Cardassian suspicion colors yours.

 **EG:** Quite so. I do believe that is the point of these sessions.

 **JB:** It is…good night, Garak, unless you want to stay?

 **EG:** No, no…I think I’ll retire before you decide to start dancing for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Sleeping Beauty.


	14. Sleeping Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Elenduen.

**Elim Garak’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**JB:** You’ll be pleased to know we are leaving the Thousand and One Nights for now.

 **EG:** Oh? I was quite enjoying them, really.

 **JB:** We’ll go back to it at some point. Right now, settle in, have some cake, and I will tell you the story of Sleeping Beauty.

 **EG:** I am already dubious at the title.

 **JB:** Once upon a time, there was a king and a queen, who desperately wished for a baby.

 **EG:** I’ve heard this one before, haven’t I?

 **JB:** There are similarities to Snow White, but they’re mostly superficial. One day, the Queen went out to the pond, where a frog spoke to her and said, “Fear not, o Queen. Before the year is out, you will have a daughter.”

 **EG:** Are this King and Queen the prince and princess from the story of The Frog Prince?

 **JB:** You’re welcome to think so, though it doesn’t specify. Anyway, the frog’s words were true, for within the year, a baby girl was born. The King and Queen were overjoyed and the King declared that there would be a grand christening for the princess. He sent invitations to his friends and family and political allies, and also to twelve fairies who lived in the kingdom.

 **EG:** Hoping to make friends, I see.

 **JB:** Yes, a bit. But there was a problem, because unknown to the King, there was another fairy living in the kingdom. When the christening came, the thirteenth fairy showed up, rather put out that she hadn’t been invited. The King apologized profusely and gave her a seat, but he only had twelve golden plates for the fairies to eat off, and the thirteenth had to make do with the regular china.

 **EG:** Was there a rule that fairies had to eat off of golden plates?

 **JB:** Not really, but she was insulted that the other fairies were given gold and her only china, and she was deeply unpleasant to everyone all evening. Nevertheless, the party went on, and the princess was christened Brier Rose.

 **EG:** A rather odd name for a princess, but I suppose it’s better than naming her Snow White.

 **JB:** I quite like it, actually. After the ceremony was done, each of the fairies stepped up to bestow a magical gift upon the child. The first granted her the gift of beauty, the second the gift of virtue, the third the gift of intelligence, etc., until eleven of the fairies had given all the gifts a person could want.

 **EG:** So…forgive me, my dear, but did the fairies essentially give Brier Rose the same gifts by magic that you received by science?

 **JB:** Essentially, though there was no law against it and the King and Queen were thrilled that their daughter would be so lovely and talented. But after the eleventh fairy had bestowed her gift, the fairy who hadn’t been invited stepped forward in a terrible huff. “All of these things your daughter shall be,” she said. “But on her sixteenth birthday, she shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and fall down dead!” With this proclamation made, the fairy turned and stomped out of the hall.

 **EG:** Well, that’s rather extreme. Cursing a child to die because you weren’t invited to a party by mistake?

 **JB:** It was, a bit, but fairies don’t mess around with etiquette. Being overlooked when invitations were sent and then not given the same treatment as the other fairies was a deadly insult in those days…or at least, according to legends.

 **EG:** I see…and why a spindle? Is this another insult to my profession?

 **JB:** No, it’s really in the ancient text that it was a spindle. Everyone was horrified by this, but then the last fairy stepped forward. She had not yet given her gift, and the King and Queen begged her to remove the curse. “I cannot undo another fairy’s curse,” she said. “She is far more powerful than I am. But I can modify it. Instead of death, Brier Rose will fall into a deep sleep for one hundred years, until a prince worthy of her comes and wakes her with a kiss.”

 **EG:** Oh, so now we’re _encouraging_ princes to make out with women who can’t give consent? What sort of message are you trying to send?

 **JB:** I’m getting there. The King and Queen were grateful for the help, but the King still worried, so he ordered that every spinning wheel in the kingdom be burned and declared that spindles of any kind were banned from the kingdom.

 **EG:** Where will they get clothes? And how will the honest tailors make a living? Really, I think this King is overreacting; his daughter won’t actually die.

 **JB:** Yes, but he didn’t like the idea of his daughter suffering at all. They imported cloth from elsewhere so that people could still have clothes, and the tailors did a thriving business repairing everyone’s clothes when there was no stock, so no one really suffered from the decree.

 **EG:** I suppose that’s fair enough.

 **JB:** The years passed and Brier Rose grew into a beautiful, wise and curious young woman. At last the day of her sixteenth birthday arrived. Her parents had left on urgent business, promising to be back by evening, so Brier Rose spent the whole day running about seeing what everyone was doing for her birthday. She was very kind and well-liked, so everyone was happy to tell her what the party would be like before they shooed her away.

 **EG:** She sounds like quite the busybody.

 **JB:** A little bit. Eventually, she had run out of people to talk to, and was quite bored, so she went to one of her favorite pastimes, which was exploring the castle, for it was very large, so large no one had ever seen all the rooms in it.

 **EG:** That sounds rather excessive. It must be a pain to maintain.

 **JB:** I think they stopped trying with the wings they didn’t use often. At any rate, Brier Rose wandered about until she found a staircase she had never been up before. Very curious as to where it led, she went up it and found a little door at the top. She opened the door, and inside was a very old woman, spinning on a spinning wheel.

 **EG:** Is it the wicked fairy in disguise?

 **JB:** In some versions. Brier Rose had never seen such a thing before, so she went inside. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m spinning cloth,” the old woman said. She explained the entire process and Brier Rose was delighted. The princess asked if she could try it.

 **EG:** Did her parents never tell her about the curse?

 **JB:** No, they didn’t.

 **EG:** Well, that was quite stupid of them. How would she know what to guard against if no one told her?

 **JB:** Would you want that hanging over a child for her entire life?

 **EG:** Better that they know so they aren’t caught off-guard.

 **JB:** Right…Brier Rose sat down, but no sooner had she touched the spindle than her finger slipped and pierced the top. Immediately, she fell down in a deep sleep and could not be moved. Almost the instant her eyes closed, the same thing happened to everyone in the castle. The courtiers, the servants, even Brier Rose’s parents who had just arrived home fell asleep right where they stood.

 **EG:** Wait a moment…if they’re going to sleep for a hundred years, wouldn’t they all starve to death? Or die of old age?

 **JB:** It was magic, so it was more like they were all in stasis. They wouldn’t age or die until the spell was broken. Furthermore, a great hedge of bramble bushes grew up around the castle, with long sharp thorns so that the princess wouldn’t be disturbed until the appointed time.

 **EG:** The fairies were very thorough, weren’t they? I don’t remember any of that being a condition of the modified curse.

 **JB:** I suppose the last fairy just wanted to be nice. After all, Brier Rose didn’t get whatever her original gift was going to be so she felt she should make up for it. The years went by, with the legend of the sleeping princess spreading throughout the kingdom. Occasionally, some prince or another would attempt to get past the hedge, but they all got caught in the thorns and died horribly.

 **EG:** Because of course they did. I should start keeping track of all the gruesome deaths in Earth fairy tales.

 **JB:** Yes, I’m sure that information would be very useful to the state of Cardassia once it’s restored.

 **EG:** At any rate, we clearly underestimated how bloodthirsty your people are.

 **JB:** Obviously. The hundred years passed when one day, a young prince rode up to the hedge. He had heard rumors of the beautiful girl inside, and wanted to try his luck in spite of everyone telling him it was foolish. But when the prince arrived, the hedge opened for him immediately. The prince went inside and saw all the people asleep. He wandered through the palace, observing that even the animals seemed to be asleep. He climbed through the castle until he found the stairs to the tower. He went up and found the sleeping princess, still as beautiful as ever.

 **EG:** Wouldn’t she be very dusty after all that time?

 **JB:** Some authors include that detail, but I like to think that the fairies swung by to clean regularly. The prince saw Brier Rose and was so overcome by her beauty that he bent to kiss her. As soon as he did, her eyes opened and she smiled at him.

 **EG:** I’m sorry, but if a strange man kissed me in my sleep, my first reaction wouldn’t be to smile at him, curse or no curse.

 **JB:** No, you’d aim a disrupter at them and probably kill them before you asked any questions.

 **EG:** Julian! I always ask questions first!

 **JB:** You’d still probably shoot the prince.

 **EG:** Well, of course. As far as Brier Rose knows, she took a nap and woke up to a strange man breaking into her home and sexual assaulting her in her sleep.

 **JB:** I suppose the fairies told her what was happening in a dream or something. Anyway, the prince confessed his love, everyone woke up, and Brier Rose and her prince were married that very night. The end.

 **EG:** That’s it? They didn’t even have a conversation before the prince decided he was in love? I know that’s par for the course in these stories, but it still disgusts me!

 **JB:** Your interpretation of the moral?

 **EG:** Don’t insult important people and tell your children what sort of danger they’re in.

 **JB:** That’s…not bad, actually.

 **EG:** I am getting better at this.

 **JB:** Well, somewhat…but some stories lend themselves to cynicism better than others.

 **EG:** Too true…and shall I wake you with a kiss tomorrow?

 **JB:** Probably not…though if you try, I at least won’t aim a disrupter at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Puss in Boots.


	15. Puss in Boots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by ScaryLady and system_requirement.

**Elim Garak’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**JB:** I think you’re going to like this one.

 **EG:** Oh? Is it about a tailor who gets his revenge on the main characters for taking advantage of his inherent good nature?

 **JB:** No, but I think you will identify with the title character. This story is called Puss in Boots.

 **EG:** I’m sorry, the translator didn’t catch that. “Cat in Boots?”

 **JB:** Essentially. Once upon a time, there was a miller who had three sons. He didn’t have much money, so when he died, his will divided his possessions among his sons. The eldest son received his mill, the second son received his mule, and the third son was bequeathed the miller’s cat.

 **EG:** That’s rather cruel. Did the eldest son give his brothers employment or at least help them start their own businesses?

 **JB:** No…the eldest son continued the business on his own, the middle son used his mule to start a moving service, but the youngest son could do little more with his inheritance than sit down and feel sorry for himself.

 **EG:** Did his brothers simply turn him out of the house with a cat and nothing else?

 **JB:** I suppose so.

 **EG:** And I assume the youngest son hadn’t learned a trade.

 **JB:** He had learned to be a miller, but there weren’t a lot of job openings and he didn’t have the money to go into business for himself.

 **EG:** His brothers are both cads and ought to be ashamed…especially the eldest. When the patriarch of a family dies, it is up to his heir to provide for all his kin.

 **JB:** The youngest son thought it was as unfair as you do. He sat in a barn and said to the cat, “Well, Puss, it appears that our fortunes have deserted us.” To his surprise, the cat answered, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Master. I believe I can turn our luck around.”

 **EG:** Is the cat a fairy?

 **JB:** Not that I’m aware of. The young man was very surprised. “Why didn’t you ever speak to me before?” he asked.

“I never had much to say,” Puss said. “But now that I’m likely to starve with you, it’s time I began.”

 **EG:** Let me guess—the young man immediately took his talking cat and exhibited him, drawing a lot of money.

 **JB:** No. The young man recovered from the shock and asked, “How do you plan to change our luck?”

“Never you mind,” Puss said. “Just do as I say. First, buy me a pair of boots, a hat and a small knife.”

 **EG:** I thought the young man was completely broke.

 **JB:** He had a bit of money. He went to the market and fetched what Puss had asked. Once Puss was dressed, he bade his master to remain at home. Puss went out to the woods and caught a fine pheasant. Once he had it, he walked on two legs to the palace where he bade the guards let him see the King.

 **EG:** Did none of them question why a cat was walking on two legs and speaking?

 **JB:** They were fairly astonished, so they took Puss at once to the King. Puss bowed deeply and presented the pheasant. “A gift to Your Majesty,” he said. “With compliments from my master, the Marquis of Carabas.”

 **EG:** The Marquis of what?

 **JB:** Carabas…it doesn’t mean anything, it was just a fancy sounding name that Puss made up on the spot. The King was impressed by the gift and bade Puss pass his thanks on to his master. The next day, Puss caught a whole brace of rabbits, which he again presented to the King, with compliments from the Marquis of Carabas.

 **EG:** And meanwhile, the so-called Marquis of Carabas was starving in a shed somewhere.

 **JB:** It was a part of Puss’s plan. Puss continued hunting, taking a bit home for his master but presenting everything else to the King, every day until he was quite the familiar sight in the palace. One day, as Puss was leaving, he overheard two of the guards saying that the King and his daughter would be driving through the country later that day. Quickly, Puss rushed home to his master. “Do as I say without question,” Puss said. “Go to the river, take off your clothes and jump in.”

 **EG:** Is he trying to get his master killed?

 **JB:** Not at all. The young man was confused, but he obeyed. He jumped in the river, where the current was too quick for him to swim through. Puss hid his master’s ragged clothes under a rock just before the King’s carriage drove by. “Help, help!” Puss called. “The Marquis of Carabas is drowning!”

 **EG:** He wouldn’t be if he wasn’t stupid enough to listen to a cat.

 **JB:** Hush. The King immediately called a halt to the carriage and several guards rushed to help the young man out of the river. As they did so, Puss turned to the King. “A band of robbers set upon us,” he said. “They stole my master’s clothes and money and threw him in the river to drown! I tried to fight them off, but they were too strong for me.”

The King sent another guard to the castle to fetch a suit of his own clothes for the Marquis of Carabas, who was currently wrapped in a blanket from the carriage. The guard returned quickly and the young man dressed. Once he was dressed, the King invited him to ride with him and his beautiful daughter.

 **EG:** It occurs to me that this project started because you wanted to discourage me from telling lies. And yet now you’re telling me a story about a cat who does almost nothing else.

 **JB:** I told you you’d identify with him.

 **EG:** A bit…though I’ve never put you in danger and then lied about it…intentionally.

 **JB:** No, you just had me chasing terrorists within a day of meeting me. The young man was glad to accept the King’s offer, as was the princess, since the young man was very handsome now that he was clean and wearing nice clothes.

 **EG:** Ah, so I am to assume that this young man is a good person, even though he’s being tossed through the story by the whim of his cat.

 **JB:** I suppose it’s preferable to the young man being the consummate liar that the cat is. The carriage continued on its way, but Puss ran ahead of them. As he ran, he passed a group of peasants working in a vast field of wheat. He said to them, “When the King passes, you must tell him this field belongs to the Marquis of Carabas, or I will cut you into mincemeat!”

 **EG:** That’s a little extreme. Couldn’t the cat bribe them somehow?

 **JB:** Well, threatening someone is merely bribing them with their life, wouldn’t you say?

 **EG:** My dear, I do believe you are learning at last.

 **JB:** I’ve had a very good teacher. The cat passed several fine fields and workers and gave the same threat each time. And sure enough, as the King passed each field, the peasants all told him that the land and their labor was owned by the Marquis of Carabas. The King was very impressed with the young man’s apparent vast wealth.

 **EG:** It’s going to be quite the drama when the young man can’t produce any proof that this land is his.

 **JB:** Records weren’t usually kept in those days. Puss kept running until he came to the castle of the true owner of the lands, a shapeshifting ogre.

 **EG:** Oh, are ogres shapeshifters now? Or is it a Changeling that prefers to appear in the form of an ogre to frighten his peasants into working for him?

 **JB:** Your choice, though I think the idea is that it’s an ogre who can shapeshift. Anyway, Puss went into the castle without a care. The ogre was seated in a vast hall with no one else around. He was surprised when the cat came up to him. “Who are you and what do you want?” the ogre demanded.

 **EG:** Quite sensibly since the cat did just walk in uninvited.

 **JB:** Puss pretended to be frightened. “Oh, please!” Puss said. “I merely wanted to look upon your greatness!” The ogre was very flattered. “Well, you’ve seen it,” he said. “Am I as impressive as you heard?”

 **EG:** An egomaniac Changeling. Will wonders never cease?

 **JB:** “Oh, yes!” Puss said. “Is it true you can turn into anything?”

“I can,” the ogre said, and at once became a great lion. He roared loud and Puss trembled from it before he changed back. “How’s that?”

“Very good!” Puss said. “Can you become something very large, like an elephant?”

 **EG:** I have no doubt he could, but was the castle large enough?

 **JB:** The castle was large enough, yes. Castles were quite vast, able to house thousands of people. There are still a few standing on Earth, I should take you to one.

 **EG:** That would be lovely, though we might wait until the war is over.

 **JB:** Obviously. Anyway, the ogre changed into an elephant right then and there, and Puss had to be very quick not to be stepped on. A moment later, the ogre changed back. “Impressed?” the ogre asked.

 **EG:** Could the ogre not hold his form very long?

 **JB:** He could hold it, but he couldn’t talk to Puss while doing so. “I don’t know,” Puss said. “It’s one thing for a big ogre like you to be something big, but could you be something very small, like a mouse?”

“Easy!” the ogre said, and he changed into a tiny mouse, whereupon Puss immediately pounced and at the ogre all up.

 **EG:** Not a very clever Changeling. And the poor cat will have a major stomach ache later.

 **JB:** He obviously killed the mouse first. Puss then went down to the kitchen, where the ogre’s servants all hid, and told them that their master was dead and he was claiming the castle in the name of the Marquis of Carabas.

 **EG:** And they all just accepted that?

 **JB:** Right of conquest was a thing…and some versions of the story say the ogre was very cruel to his staff so they welcomed any change they could get. Puss ordered a feast be prepared, then went up to the entrance, where the King’s carriage had just arrived.

 **EG:** Convenient.

 **JB:** Puss welcomed the King and princess to the home of the Marquis of Carabas. The King was so impressed that he immediately offered the hand of his daughter to the young man.

 **EG:** I’d protest further at this, but they have just spent at least an hour conversing in a carriage, which is better than most of these fairy tale protagonists get. Though the young man must have been quite the conversationalist to keep up the pretense for that long.

 **JB:** Quite. So the young man married the princess and retained his made-up title, and Puss spent the rest of his days in luxury, chasing mice for the fun of it. The end.

 **EG:** And now you want my thoughts on a moral.

 **JB:** Of course.

 **EG:** Well, obviously the moral is that lying, cheating and murdering people is a good way to ensure that you end up living a good life, even if you do it for the benefit of someone else.

 **JB:** I thought that might be your interpretation.

 **EG:** And knowing that, you still told it to me anyway, knowing it would reinforce all the things you dislike in me?

 **JB:** I don’t…dislike those things…well, I do on principle, but…it’s you.

 **EG:** All right then, what was I supposed to take from that?

 **JB:** The morals Perrault wrote are “one stresses the importance of possessing  _industrie_  and savoir faire while the other extols the virtues of dress, countenance, and youth to win the heart of a princess.”

EG: What does that even mean?

 **JB:** The two-fold moral was that you should be hardworking and clever, and that if you’re handsome and well-dressed women will like you.

 **EG:** Ah…well, those are the qualities you like about me, so I suppose the story works either way.

 **JB:** Yes…I suppose it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: The Golden Goose.


	16. The Golden Goose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by ScaryLady (who asked for a variant I don't have, sorry!) and system_requirement.

**Julian Bashir’s Quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**JB:** I think you’ll enjoy this one. There’s no murder whatsoever.

 **EG:** I would think that would be a sign that I’d hate it.

 **JB:** You’re the one who’s been complaining that most of these stories aren’t suitable for children.

 **EG:** Not complaining, merely questioning how the Federation has managed to instill its utopian morals into its children when your stories are so violent.

 **JB:** It took us thousands of years to get to this point, and it was full of violence. It’s only natural that would bleed over into our fairy tales.

 **EG:** Cardassian history is just as full of violence, as you constantly remind me, and yet our children’s stories don’t contain nearly as much of it.

 **JB:** Maybe we should start trading off. You could tell me some Cardassian fairy tales and see how I respond to them.

 **EG:** Cardassians don’t really have fairy tales as you understand them. We’re not taken to flights of fancy nearly as easy as humans.

 **JB:** We’re getting off-topic. Tonight’s story is called The Golden Goose.

 **EG:** I wouldn’t say that was off-topic. We were discussing fairy tales in general…

 **JB:** Garak, as much as I’d love to banter with you all night, my recorder only has so much memory space on it. Can we save the debate of fairy tales in general until lunch tomorrow?

 **EG:** Oh, all right. Please, tell me all about this oddly-colored goose.

 **JB:** Thank you. Once upon a time there was a man who had three sons. The first two were extremely clever, but the third was quite slow, and thus everyone called him Dumbling.

 **EG:** Well, that’s rather cruel of them…then again, I don’t know what else I was expecting, given how every deficiency tends to be mocked throughout these stories.

 **JB:** One day, the eldest brother went out to the forest to chop wood. Before he left, his mother gave him a piece of cake and a bottle of wine to take with him so he wouldn’t be hungry.

 **EG:** Not a very nutritious meal.

 **JB:** But one easy to carry. When he reached the forest, he met a little grey dwarf there. The dwarf wished the man a good day and said, “May I have a bit of your cake and a drink of your wine? I am very hungry and thirsty.”

“No,” the man said. “For if I give my wine and cake to you, there won’t be any for me.”

 **EG:** And if I know anything about fairies, this will not end well.

 **JB:** Quite right. The young man went a little ways further and ate his meal. But as soon as he raised his axe to chop down a tree, it slipped and cut his arm.

 **EG:** I’d say that was a disproportionate response, but I’m mostly grateful he wasn’t killed.

 **JB:** That would be disproportionate. Anyway, the eldest son was obliged to return home to get his arm bandaged. But since the household still had no wood, the second son took the axe to the forest. His mother gave him a piece of cake and a bottle of wine just as she had given the first brother. The second son went into the forest, where he met the little grey dwarf.

“May I have a bite of your cake and a drink of wine?” the dwarf asked.

“What I give to you, I take from myself,” the man said. “So get out of my way.”

 **EG:** I thought you said that the elder sons were clever.

 **JB:** I did.

 **EG:** Then why do they insist on angering fairies?

 **JB:** I suppose they didn’t know any better.

 **EG:** I would think that would be a primary school lesson if you live in Fairy Land—never ever refuse a fairy gifts.

 **JB:** Well, apparently they hadn’t learned that lesson. Or else they thought they were cleverer than the fairies. Anyway, the second son continued on, ate his meal, and went to chop a tree, but when he swung his axe, it buried itself in his leg.

 **EG:** I hope someone found him so he didn’t have to limp home.

 **JB:** It was apparently a fairly populated forest, so he was carried back. The house still had no wood, so Dumbling said to his father, “I will go and chop wood.”

“No,” his father said. “Your brothers hurt themselves and you don’t know how to use the axe. I want you to stay away from the woods.”

 **EG:** Well, it’s nice to know that the man cares about his son getting hurt, even if he mocks him.

 **JB:** Dumbling insisted and finally his father relented. His mother was all out of cake and wine, so she gave Dumbling a cake made from ashes and a bottle of sour beer and sent him on his way.

 **EG:** She gave all her good food to the elder children without saving any for the third son? Really, my dear, I am baffled at your specie’s continued survival if this is how you treated your children!

 **JB:** Mm…yes, the ill-treatment of less clever children is appalling, isn’t it?

 **EG:** …I didn’t mean…

 **JB:** No, I didn’t think you did…it’s easy for people to forget. Anyway, Dumbling went out to the forest where he met the grey dwarf. “Please,” the dwarf said. “May I have a bit of your food?”

“I only have an ash cake and sour beer,” Dumbling said. “But what I have I am happy to share.” He sat down with the dwarf and took the food out, but to his surprise, it had become a fine cake and wine, which he gladly split with the dwarf.

 **EG:** I still think Dumbling is smarter than his brothers. He at least knows that fairies will reward generosity.

 **JB:** The dwarf said to Dumbling, “Since you have been generous and good-hearted, I will reward you. There is an old tree in the next clearing. Chop it down and take what you find among the roots.”

Dumbling went to the clearing and found a very old and gnarled tree. He chopped it down without trouble and when it fell, he found a goose with golden feathers sitting among the roots.

 **EG:** Were they actual gold metal, or just golden colored?

 **JB:** Actual gold metal, I suppose. Dumbling picked up the goose, and, realizing his good fortune, set off into the village to see what luck befell him.

 **EG:** It must have been a very heavy goose.

 **JB:** Well, you know these fairy tale heroes; they always seem to be able to carry their ludicrously heavy treasure.

 **EG:** I suppose it wouldn’t be much of a story if they couldn’t.

 **JB:** Exactly. Dumbling went into town and to an inn, where he paid for a room with one of the goose’s feathers, which grew back the moment he plucked it. The innkeeper had three daughters, who were all amazed by the goose and started scheming to steal feathers for themselves. As soon as Dumbling was asleep, the eldest daughter crept into his room and reached out to pluck a feather from the goose’s wing.

 **EG:** I take it Dumbling is a heavy sleeper.

 **JB:** She was very stealthy and the goose didn’t squawk at all. However, the moment her hand touched the goose, it stuck fast and no matter what she did, she couldn’t pull away. Soon, the second daughter came in. The eldest asked her to pull her loose. The second daughter took her sister’s hand but couldn’t pull her off the goose—and worse, when she tried to leave, they found their hands were stuck together.

 **EG:** And Dumbling still didn’t wake up?

 **JB:** Either he didn’t or he simply didn’t mind the girls being there. Soon enough, the third sister came into the room. “Stay away!” her sisters cried, but she saw the goose and thought, why shouldn’t she have a feather as well? She reached out and grabbed the second sister, but she stuck to her as well. And so all three girls were forced to spend the night with the goose.

 **EG:** Was there any way for them to get loose at all, or is Dumbling going to have to provide for them as well as himself and his magic pet?

 **JB:** I suppose if it became too much of a burden, he could ask the dwarf to let them loose. The next morning, Dumbling woke up and picked up his goose, the girls still stuck to it, and set off again. The girls, unable to get loose, were obliged to run along beside him, though he didn’t much care for that and set a good pace.

 **EG:** Generous to fairies but cruel to women…I suppose that’s par for the course in these stories.

 **JB:** They had tried to steal from him.

 **EG:** You said that the feathers grew back once plucked. It wasn’t as though they would take everything.

 **JB:** They might have tried to take the goose entirely.

 **EG:** So now they’re subject to his whim. I suppose that is fitting in a way.

 **JB:** Exactly. As they went along, they passed the parson, who was astonished and ran after them. “You naughty girls!” he called. “Let go of that goose and stop following that man at once!” He reached out and grabbed the third sister’s elbow, where he stuck fast just as the girls had.

 **EG:** But the parson hadn’t done anything wrong! He was simply trying to keep the girls from falling into ruin!

 **JB:** I don’t understand it either. So the parson had to run along behind them as well. Soon the sexton came out of the church behind them. “Hey, parson!” the sexton cried. “Where are you going?” He ran over and touched the parson’s sleeve, where he became stuck like the others.

 **EG:** This goose seems rather arbitrary. Is everyone but Dumbling going to get stuck until the dwarf decides to let them go?

 **JB:** Yes. Dumbling continued along, seemingly oblivious to the parade of people running behind him. They passed a field, where two farmers were working. The parson called to them for help, but when both farmers went to pull the sexton away, they stuck as well.

Soon they came to the capital city, where the King lived. Now, this King had a daughter who was so grim and serious that she had never once laughed in all her life.

 **EG:** Never? I’d think there was something wrong with her.

 **JB:** Clinical depression, maybe. The King was seriously worried about her, so he had decreed that any man who could make the princess laugh would have her for his wife and inherit the kingdom after him.

 **EG:** That’s a rather strange way to choose an heir and a husband…at least obscene displays of material wealth show that your daughter will be cared for financially.

 **JB:** The King wasn’t concerned about his daughter’s financial well-being so much as her emotional state, which I think is far more important.

 **EG:** True…but just because a man happens to be funny doesn’t mean he’s a good husband.

 **JB:** Still, the King was desperate to see his daughter happy. Anyway, when Dumbling heard the decree, he took his goose and followers before the princess. When the princess saw the goose and all those people stuck together and running along behind the uncaring young man, she burst out laughing so hard it seemed she would never stop.

 **EG:** Just because she saw a bunch of people stuck to a goose? She has a very strange sense of humor.

 **JB:** Maybe that’s why she’d never laughed before.

 **EG:** Clearly.

 **JB:** Dumbling at once demanded that he have the princess for his bride. The King was not impressed by Dumbling’s lack of title or by his reputation as being rather dim, but he could hardly back down on the decree.

 **EG:** Which makes it ever clearer why it was a stupid metric to begin with.

 **JB:** The King finally declared that Dumbling could marry the princess if he first found someone able to drink an entire cellar full of wine, thinking that no simple peasant could find such a person on short notice. Dumbling immediately thought of the grey dwarf, so he went into the forest to find him.

 **EG:** Again, I ask what makes Dumbling so much slower than anyone else. He seems rather clever to me.

 **JB:** Honestly, I’m not sure. Dumbling went to the spot where he’d found the goose. On the stump was a man with a very sad face. Dumbling asked what was wrong. “I am so very thirsty,” the man said. “Water will not quench my thirst, and I’ve just now drunk a barrel of wine and it did nothing.”

 **EG:** Convenient…is this man an alcoholic?

 **JB:** I suppose so. Dumbling at once took the man back to the King, who had already set up a cellar full of wine barrels. The man rushed to the barrels and began drinking at once. By the end of the day, the cellar was completely empty. Dumbling once again demanded his bride, but the King was still reluctant, so he said Dumbling must now find someone who could eat a mountain of bread as tall as the palace.

 **EG:** Can I ask what happened to the goose and its followers during all this?

 **JB:** The story doesn’t say. I suppose they were still being dragged around after Dumbling while he did all these tasks.

 **EG:** A pity the king demanded one person to eat and drink all these things. I’m sure between the seven of them they could manage it.

 **JB:** Yes, a shame. Anyway, Dumbling went back to the forest, where he found a very thin man sitting on the stump. “I am so hungry,” the man said. “I’ve just eaten an oven of bread and I can never be full.” Dumbling took the man to the King, where all the bread in the kingdom had been gathered so that it formed a mountain as tall as the palace.

 **EG:** And the people of the kingdom went hungry that night because the King had taken their bread.

 **JB:** Let them eat cake indeed.

 **EG:** I’m sorry?

 **JB:** Nothing…old Earth reference. Anyway, the man from the forest began to eat at once and finished all the bread within a day. Dumbling once again demanded his bride, but the King said there was one more task. Dumbling must find a ship that could sail on land as well as on water, and when he came sailing back, he would marry the princess.

 **EG:** At least that one would prove Dumbling had some form of income besides an unusually sticky goose.

 **JB:** Quite. Dumbling went to the forest, where he found the grey dwarf. “I’ve eaten and drunk for you,” the dwarf said. “And I will make your ship, because you were so good to me.”

 **EG:** He shared a cake and wine with the dwarf and that entitles him to a lifetime of favors?

 **JB:** Fairies work that way, I suppose. Be nice to one once and they’ll reward you forever. Anyway, the dwarf created the ship, and Dumbling sailed back in it. The King had no further cause to object to the match, so Dumbling married the princess and inherited the kingdom. The end.

 **EG:** And no mention of what happened to the goose.

 **JB:** Not at all. I suppose the dwarf let the people stuck to it loose and the goose stayed in the castle in a place of honor.

 **EG:** Right…well, the obvious moral is that being kind to fairies will be rewarded, but if people try to take your reward it’s all right to make them get a lot more exercise than they’re used to.

 **JB:** Other than the part you tacked on, yes, that is the point.

 **EG:** Also that making a woman laugh is not qualification to rule a kingdom unless you can get your fairy friend to help you with everything.

 **JB:** That’s not really what was intended.

 **EG:** No, but I can only assume that the grey dwarf was pulling the strings of the kingdom for the rest of time since Dumbling was completely unqualified as a ruler. I can see now why the dwarf would want to repay a simple favor forever, really. He’s put himself in quite a high position.

 **JB:** I don’t think the dwarf had anything to do with how the kingdom ran, actually.

 **EG:** Well, I do. Otherwise, it’s just a story full of random events that result in a King who can’t rule.

 **JB:** Imposing sense on these stories doesn’t always make them better.

 **EG:** Of course it does! If I didn’t impose sense on them, they would be quite unbearable.

 **JB:** If you say so…I’ll see you tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: The Red Shoes.


	17. The Red Shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by wcdarling.

**Julian Bashir’s quarters, Deep Space Nine**

**EG:** I must say, you’ve done remarkably well the last few weeks at keeping our stories relatively light-hearted.

 **JB:** Well, that changes tonight. We’re back to Andersen, and you know he can get maudlin.

 **EG:** Please tell me this one at least has an actual point.

 **JB:** It does. Tonight’s story is called “The Red Shoes.” Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Karen. She was very pretty but also very poor, so poor that she had no shoes except an old pair of wooden clogs.

 **EG:** I take it she is a paragon of virtue who will be granted a magical reprisal.

 **JB:** For once, you’d be wrong…well, mostly. There was nearby an old shoemaker’s wife, who took pity on Karen and made her a pair of shoes out of old scraps of red leather. They were clumsy but they warmed Karen’s feet. She wore them for the first time at her mother’s funeral, even though they were not suitable for mourning.

 **EG:** Do humans have specific colors they wear for funerals?

 **JB:** In Andersen’s culture, mourners wore black. As it happened, during the procession, a carriage pulled up and a well-to-do old lady saw the little girl. She felt sorry for her and said to the clergyman, “If you give me the little girl, I will take very good care of her and see that she grows up virtuous.” The clergyman agreed, since Karen had no other relatives to look after her.

 **EG:** Did the clergyman know the old woman wasn’t a wicked witch looking to eat the little girl?

 **JB:** He knew her well and agreed that Karen could go live with her. Karen thought the old woman wanted to take her home on account of her red shoes, but the old woman thought they were hideous and saw that they were burned.

 **EG:** And gave her something more suitable, I hope.

 **JB:** I assume so. The old woman looked after Karen, and taught her to read and sew and all the things a young lady was supposed to know. Everyone said Karen was very pretty, but the mirror told her she was more than pretty—she was beautiful.

 **EG:** Was it a talking mirror?

 **JB:** No, Karen was just very vain. One day, the Queen and princess of the country came through the town where Karen lived. All the people turned out to see them, since they didn’t visit often. The princess stood out on the balcony of the house where they stayed and allowed all the people to look on her. She was dressed all in white, except for a pair of red morocco shoes, which were much finer than the ones Karen had once had.

 **EG:** And Karen, upon seeing the beauty of the princess, instantly fell in love with her and started scheming to marry her?

 **JB:** No. It’s not that sort of story.

 **EG:** Ah yes, your people didn’t approve of homosexual relations in those days.

 **JB:** They did not, although many scholars believe Andersen himself was bisexual…anyway, that’s not important. What Karen noticed were the red shoes, which she wanted beyond anything.

 **EG:** Ah, so she’ll come up with a scheme to steal them.

 **JB:** No, Garak. As it happened, Karen was old enough to be confirmed—that is, she was old enough to confirm her belief in Christianity. For the occasion, she was to have new clothes and shoes, so the old lady took Karen to the best shoemaker in town. He measured Karen’s feet and showed her a selection of tiny shoes. Among them were a pair of red shoes, which were to be for a count’s daughter, but they had not fitted her. The old lady had very poor eyesight and could not see that the shoes were red, so when Karen chose them she agreed to buy them; had she known their color, she never would have done so.

 **EG:** Could red shoes not be worn for a confirmation?

 **JB:** Not generally. Black or white shoes would have been more acceptable.

 **EG:** Why? What color was her dress?

 **JB:** Girls were generally confirmed in white in those days, I think.

 **EG:** But the princess wore red shoes with a white dress.

 **JB:** Not for confirmation.

 **EG:** Again, I ask what’s wrong with red shoes for confirmation.

 **JB:** I’m getting to that. All through the ceremony, all Karen could think about were her red shoes. It seemed everyone was staring at them, and even as the clergyman spoke the words of confirmation, her mind was on the shoes. Afterwards, all anyone could talk about was how improper it was for Karen to wear red shoes. The old lady was shocked, and assured everyone that from now on, Karen would only wear black shoes to church.

 **EG:** I’m definitely missing some cultural context for this story.

 **JB:** Put it this way—the shoes were very bright and distracting, and church was supposed to be a solemn occasion.

 **EG:** Is it like Little Red’s hood with bright red attracting evil wolves?

 **JB:** Something like that. Red tends to symbolize passion and sin in these stories. The next Sunday, as Karen was getting ready for Communion, she looked between her black shoes and her red ones before putting on the red shoes.

 **EG:** Why didn’t the old lady get rid of them if she hated them so much?

 **JB:** There was no reason Karen couldn’t wear them for other occasions, and they were expensive. As Karen and the old lady approached the church, they saw a crippled old soldier with a long red and white beard outside. He asked if he could wipe their shoes for a penny. The old lady agreed and he cleaned her shoes. But when Karen put out her little foot, the soldier said, “My, what pretty dancing shoes! Sit fast while you dance!” He slapped the sole of the shoes, took his penny, and hobbled off to the next customer.

 **EG:** Am I to assume he’s some sort of fairy?

 **JB:** Could be. All through church, everyone stared a Karen’s shoes, and she thought of nothing else, so much so that she forgot to say her Psalms and the Lord’s Prayer.

 **EG:** In all fairness, there were quite a lot of Psalms in that Bible you lent me. If I weren’t Cardassian, I would probably forget most of them as well.

 **JB:** The point is that her mind was on her shoes and not her prayers. As they were leaving church and climbing into the carriage, the old soldier passed by and said, “Oh my, what pretty dancing shoes!” Karen couldn’t help it—she began to dance, and once she started, she could not stop, dancing all around the church, as though the shoes were controlling her. At last, the coachman caught her in his arms and put her in the carriage, but her feet continued to dance until she violently kicked the old lady.

 **EG:** It seems the soldier’s curse is rather cruel. Karen is just making a fool of herself, but the old lady who did nothing wrong is being violently assaulted.

 **JB:** Are you even surprised by the collateral damage anymore?

 **EG:** No, I’ve learned that fairies don’t much care. Still, physically injuring an old woman is a bit more than usual.

 **JB:** At last, they managed to take the shoes off and Karen stopped dancing. The shoes were put away in a cupboard, but Karen couldn’t help but look at them.

 **EG:** Again, I ask why the old woman didn’t just throw them away. They’re cursed, they should be destroyed!

 **JB:** Apparently Mordor was too far away.

 **EG:** What?

 **JB:** Sorry…couldn’t resist…I’ll lend you those books sometime. At length, the old lady grew ill, so ill that it was expected she would soon die. She was confined to bed, and Karen was obliged to wait on her and nurse her as much as she could.

 **EG:** Quite right. The old lady was very kind to take her in and educate her. Karen owes her the full allegiance of a daughter.

 **JB:** It was very hard work, though. One night, there was a grand ball in town and Karen had been invited. She thought there would be no harm in taking a night off, and so she fetched her red shoes, thinking there would be no sin in wearing them to a dance, and went to the ball.

 **EG:** Leaving the old lady on her own? Didn’t she at least ask the clergyman to look after her?

 **JB:** It didn’t occur to her. She wanted a break.

 **EG:** There’s wanting a break, and then there’s abandoning the woman who raised you to be helpless all night!

 **JB:** Karen wasn’t used to being responsible. Anyway, she went to the ball and started to dance. But whatever she wanted to do, her shoes did the opposite. When she tried to go right, her shoes danced left. When she tried to dance up the hall, the shoes danced down, out the door and through the street and finally straight out of town, carrying Karen far from home. She danced out to the woods, where she saw a face above the trees. It was the old soldier, who laughed and said, “My, what pretty dancing shoes!”

 **EG:** Definitely a fairy, then.

 **JB:** Or an angel. Karen couldn’t stop dancing. She tried to pull the shoes off, but they stuck fast. She grew tired but could not stop dancing for a moment. She danced all day and all night, through fields and meadows, until she came to an old church. In the doorway stood an angel in white, who looked on her with disgust. “Dance you shall," said he, "dance in your red shoes till you are pale and cold, till your skin shrivels up and you are a skeleton! Dance you shall, from door to door, and where proud and wicked children live you shall knock, so that they may hear you and fear you! Dance you shall, dance!"

 **EG:** Now, really! That’s quite a curse for a girl who only wanted to wear something pretty! Didn’t the princess in Donkeyskin put on pretty dresses every Sunday just to make herself feel good?

 **JB:** She didn’t go to church in them.

 **EG:** I see no difference. And now because Karen’s being forced to dance, the old lady will die alone, once again punishing her when she did nothing wrong!

 **JB:** Karen shouldn’t have left her.

 **EG:** No, but the angel should make her dance home and then leave her alone.

 **JB:** Anyway, Karen begged for mercy, but the angel did not answer. Karen continued to dance, along roads and through forests, until she did reach home, where she saw a coffin carried out. The clergyman glared at her, but she could not stop dancing, and she cried, knowing she was alone and forsaken.

 **EG:** I feel quite sorry for her. As far as I can tell, the only sin Karen committed was to wear red shoes and go to a dance. Neither is a crime that warrants this treatment.

 **JB:** We’ll get to that. Karen continued dancing, through thickets until she bled, with no food or drink. At last she came to a lonely house on a heath, where the executioner lived. As she passed, she rapped on the door. “Come out,” she begged. “I cannot come in, for I must dance!”

The executioner came out. “Do you know who I am?” he asked. “I chop wicked heads from their bodies, and my axe is itching.”

 **EG:** Really! She certainly didn’t do anything to warrant an execution! And beheading is such a messy way to do it!

 **JB:** But very effective, you have to admit.

 **EG:** It’s uncivilized.

 **JB:** So was the Victorian era.

 **EG:** Obviously, if this is what they told their children.

 **JB:** “Don’t cut off my head!” Karen begged. “For then I could not repent my sin. But cut off my feet and red shoes.”

 **EG:** I fail to see how that’s any better!

 **JB:** Karen confessed her sins, clinging to the window to keep from dancing away. The executioner cut off her feet and the shoes danced away.

 **EG:** So now she’ll spend her life unable to walk. What lesson was I supposed to learn from this?

 **JB:** I’m not finished. The executioner carved a pair of feet and crutches from wood for her and taught her a psalm sung by sinners. Then Karen kissed the hand that cut off her feet and went away over the heath.

 **EG:** How did he attach wooden feet to her?

 **JB:** I’ll assume with iron bands. It’s not very clear.

 **EG:** I’m still not clear on why wearing red shoes to church warrants losing one’s feet.

 **JB:** Karen thought she had suffered enough and said, “I shall go to church, so the people might see that I have repented.” But when she reached the church door, the red shoes were in front of her, still dancing. Karen was frightened and turned back, and she cried all week. The next week, the same thing happened, and she could not enter the church.

 **EG:** As I understand the religion, you’re supposed to go into church to learn about God and give confessions and so on. How is she supposed to do those things if the angels won’t let her in?

 **JB:** She wanted to go so she could prove she was better than the other people there, which the angels felt was the wrong reason for going to church.

 **EG:** In that case, I would give up the religion entirely.

 **JB:** But then she wouldn’t go to Heaven.

 **EG:** And again, I ask why she should live her life in the hope of a paradise that might not exist is waiting.

 **JB:** Look, Garak, we can argue about theology all night, or I can finish the story.

 **EG:** I apologize, my dear, it’s just a very strange way of teaching religion.

 **JB:** But easier than reading a Bible every night.

 **EG:** That is true.

 **JB:** Karen was distraught, so she went to the parsonage, where she begged to be taken into service. “I will be industrious,” she said. “I will be good, and take any wage so long as I am among good people.” The parson’s wife took pity on her and hired her to mind and educate the children. Karen was hard-working and sat and listened quietly when the parson read from the Bible. The children loved her, but when they spoke of beauty and clothes and grandeur, she merely shook her head.

 **EG:** Is this a cautionary tale against buying nice clothes? Because if it is, I will be very offended.

 **JB:** On Sunday, the family went to church. They asked Karen if she would go, but she said that she could not, for she did not deserve to sit among the people. Instead, she sat in her little room and read her Bible with a pious mind. Her window was open so that she could hear the organ from the church, and as she heard it, she lifted her face to the sky and begged for God to help her.

 **EG:** He hasn’t so far; what makes her think he will now?

 **JB:** Now she meant it. As she begged for help, the angel appeared before her. He carried a branch of roses and when he touched it to the ceiling, Karen was at once transported to church, to the pew with the pastor’s family. “It was good of you to come,” the pastor said.

“It was mercy,” Karen said.

 **EG:** Mercy to be allowed to hear God’s word? This religion is very inconsistent; I rather thought they wanted everyone to hear God’s word, or was the bit about a thirsty man most needing a well dropped by this point?

 **JB:** Karen sat and heard the sermon, and the choir and felt the sun through the windows. The joy and peace overcame her so much that her heart broke and her soul was carried away to Heaven, where no one asked about the red shoes. The end.

 **EG:** …tell me, my dear, but was Mr. Andersen a deeply unhappy person?

 **JB:** Many scholars believe so, yes.

 **EG:** I thought so.

 **JB:** So…what do you think the point is?

 **EG:** The point is that wearing nice things to church is bad and you will suffer if you do it.

 **JB:** Well…sort of. The red shoes represent vanity and temptation. It’s more a story about how it’s only through true piety and repentance that you can be saved, and that you should think about God more than pretty clothes.

 **EG:** Hardly a relevant moral in this day and age.

 **JB:** Oh, I don’t know. There are more important things than wearing pretty shoes, after all.

 **EG:** True, but saying that a person shouldn’t want to look nice and have fun is a bit harsh.

 **JB:** What about vanity? Are you going to say that’s a virtue?

 **EG:** Perhaps not, but self-confidence is. And there’s a very thin line between the two. After all, you’re very aware that you’re a beautiful man, aren’t you?

 **JB:** I’ve been told so.

 **EG:** But I wouldn’t call you vain. Not least because you never wear pretty clothes.

 **JB:** I wear a uniform most of the time.

 **EG:** Maybe you should put some red shoes with it.

 **JB:** And lose my feet? No thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am taking a brief hiatus after this chapter. I still have your requests listed, but I'm running up on a Bang deadline, plus my real life has gotten a lot busier lately. Thank you for your understanding. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I will take requests for other fairy tales (if I know them).


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